John Grey

The Woman Painter
 
The shore she paints is gull and gentle wave, 
A peaceful scene where light and silence meet. 
To me, these waters are an ocean grave 
of wrecks, drowned men, a beauty bittersweet.

Her palette is too plain and mine too grey,
Too bright while mine bears fate and loss and fear. 
No storm, no demon mars her breezy bay. 
No ghostly helm, no death is painted here.

If I could wield her brush, I’d stain belief 
With morbid blacks, the sea a swirl of haze. 
One final boat would float beyond the reef. 
Its haunted crew with spectral eyes agaze.

She smiles, content. Her work is near complete. 
But mine begins with sunlight in retreat.

John Greyis an Australian poet and US resident, recently published in Shift, River And South, and Flights. His latest books, Bittersweet, Subject Matters,and Between Two Fires, are available through Amazon. He has work upcoming in Rush, White Wall Review and Trampoline.