Watching the palette spoke a bemused Richard Brown
"Must I pour bright red all over your gown;
Make a soporific colour for your half closed eyes
With thick oil and paints to blend your lies.
Just above your temples a scintilla of violet
And your cheeks below dry, no, maybe a little wet;
The tranquil shade of the smile on your lips
Hiding behind your nonchalant golden hair wisps..."
The brushes of Richard Brown danced along
And the cerulean composition became a song
He watched beauty carve out of creative stains
And from terra incognita came rushing his pains
Washing his brush, said he in a voice weak :
"Elizabeth, there's a promise you failed to keep.
For now, you are looking into my eyes, straight
A thousand years is perhaps a long wait
In this picture shall I watch your eyes
Never losing those dreams over the endless skies
Look, your lips are red, brighter than the rose
The song's been written, the diary's 'bout to close..."
Standing up, Richard Brown turned towards his right
Where lay his dream, in obscured teary sight.
Walking over the cold pebbles, Brown heard the air
Weep in taciturnity at a lover's despair;
He watched the red rose lying the same way on her
And the yellowed leaves playing just near the corner.
Spoke the famous artist Richard Brown after a sigh
"Your promise to love me forever was a lie.
For now, you sleep below the earth I walk on.
Every letter is burnt, now every dream is gone.
But I had made a promise, too, one sunny day
In every tempest of tears, I would always stay
No death can paint the azure sky black, never;
Look at my canvas ; Haven't I made you alive forever?"