Viewing Van Gogh

Clouds float forever in the

powder blue sky above amber

summer fields.

White roses exude painted oil fragrance, posing

for brush strokes of pointed light.

An ear today would be gone tomorrow lost to

inner turmoil.

And your soul will live indelibly in canvasses of

earth and sky, in the gaze from  portraits filled

with your tortured hunger to create and die.

 

J. L. James

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