Her dark eyes watch as paints I place
A perfect model, hard to find Upon this canvas is her face I wonder what is in her mind And dark, her hair, so smoothly flows As it drapes both her shoulders, bare She sits and watches as I paint So at ease and without a care So distracted I find myself For such loveliness to behold Her name is Elizabeth Anne And she's just twentyfive years old I try hard not to meet her gaze Or lips that ever slightly part And keep this just professional Because she is a work of art But even so, my eyes still see Her upturned nose and wavy hair The passion that within her flows I do hope she is unaware She sighs and moves and asks to speak Her voice so soft I barely hear She wants to know if she can peek So I let her come over here Her hair is nearly to her waist And as she moves it dances free But never do her eyes leave mine And she is all that I can see She touches me in ways that want Her lips so moist, I have to taste Her eyes so dark, I'm lost in them While painting, this I've never faced And never to be faced again Forever lost I know I'll be To drown within all that she is And never again to be free |