Renoir in Black

The world, stood still
behind, my eyes
as the canvas breathed
an impatient, white
undulation,
and waited
as Renoir, in black
pondered
the abstraction of colour
and
the windowless line
and the hand led the
eye
through the barriers,
of time
and the fiction, opaque
got washed away
as the canvas, cried
and the mind
awoke, in vibrant
hues.
And I held
your face, in my hands
for the first time
and Renoir,
was pleased.
Chrissie 05.20.02