Sunday, March 26, 2017

The Portrait

The Portrait

Night winds coil the sunless hours
as daylight wiggles out of darkness.

A kingly fez, curved by a green turban,
spun round His hallowed head.

Humble, my beloved, the painter
could not gaze into His face.

He took his hands,
so blessed, and smoothed
the crests on His garb.

The painter had no choice,
he bowed in shame.

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