The Portrait

The Portrait

Night winds coiled the sunless hours
as day twisted out of darkness.

A kingly fez curved by a green white turban
spun round his hallowed head.

Humble, my beloved, though the painter
did not raise an eye, he took his hands
so blessed,

and smoothed the crests on his garb
while on the knees he rested.

The painter had no choice,
he bowed ashamed.


© Sergio Ortiz

Published in Issue Ten, Recession, August, 2008, Cause & Effect

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