One.
The stage calls out your name.
You can only heed it's voice,
it's lustful calling.
It's calling for you.
And now it is time to start
The game.
Two.
The curtain rises
In the corner of your eye I stand,
Watching your every move.
You dance, I wreathe, I sigh,
I moan at your every groove.
You run, my eyes will follow.
You look, I smile and applaud.
You skip, my heart leaps.
You fall, I paint and compose
A masterpiece.
Three.
The curtain calls.
With expert hands I trace.
With expertise I move.
With grace you fall once more,
And look to me, only to me.
My brush strokes your head.
Colors portrude your skin
A final sigh, a final moan
as you finally let me in.
Four.
The Curtain falls.
My masterpiece subsides as her
fragile form falls before my eyes.
A stroke of the gun,
a shot of the brush.
My masterpiece has been painted.
Another victim tainted.
And I have my eye towards
a new muse in the audience
As I bow...
YOU ARE READING
Sic Parvis Magna - A Poetry collection
Poesía"Greatness from Small Beginnings" This is a collection of all the poems I've written in the past, present and will write in the future. There is no limit to what the mind creates. Nor is there a limit on Poetry.
