White Peony

As statuesque as all before, She posed that time for me, With beauty captured there for sure, Mixed with serenity... Her gentleness and wistful heart Portrayed as fancy free, Transforming all my skills at art To share such majesty... For like a princess at her height, So confident, sublime, She need not represent her might, But treasure restful time... Her beauty had a tale to tell, When she was in her prime And everywhere she cast her spell, Like poets with each rhyme... And so began perfection's quest, Each brushstroke brought to bear, In hopes that others were impressed, Perchance to stop and stare... And in those moments, nod and sigh, To pause in silent prayer, For she was pleasing to the eye And quite beyond compare... When all is well, the heart is glad, Just like the Lord had planned And gone are memories bleak and sad Replaced by dreams so grand... 'White Peony' I titled this, The flower in her hand, The emblem of her soulful bliss For all to understand... Denis Martindale, copyright June 2014. The poem is based on the magnificent painting by artist Raipun, thanks to her art collection on deviantart. Use Google search to learn more.