The Artists' Muse

Choosing to become sedentary
laying alone my mind wanders,
like fluffy white candy floss clouds,
sweet honeysuckle perpetuates my
memory into a past moment in time,

finding myself there laying poised,
fragrance stripping down the years;
my sexuality well developed...a blend
of milky white and tan; a tinge of shade,

the Masters...their fixation a canvas
producing original concepts of visualization,
my body their muse...undertones of dialogue
pass between each one, as they discuss the
angular curves of my composition,

feathered brush strokes slant down into the
hollows of my flesh, revealing countless secrets,
each with their own impression of what they see,

passing time...I flick the pages of a glossy supplement,
head resting on elbow, I mimic bronzed babes posing
under a pristine blue sky; their quintessential – perfect
bodies alluring in appearance, though mine is the artists' muse.