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'Artist's Child'She looks at the image that hangs upon the wall That of a child, resembling her own, So pure and sweet, his eyes of innocence wide Look about in wonder of it all. This small young boy with chocolate eyes And dark brown whispy hair, With skin likes peacehes drenched in cream Is perched, upon an aged chair. His legs are crossed below his knees An angelic look, as soft as sumeer breeze Touched her heart when she passed his way, And it called to her on that sunny day. He smiled like he knew her, could she really know him? His stare so familiar as it shone from within, How impish he looked as his thoughts came alive, And she listened intently, as she stood there, and sighed. She could hardly believe as her eyes stared intent At the face of a child she knew not, Had he lived, had he breathed, was he ever alive Or just the artists' imaginative image? Now the artist's child who sits in rest, Who touched her heart, who stole her breath, With angel eyes that capture all, Now hangs upon her bedroom wall. Rusty Blackwood. Copyright 2005-09. ~ This poem was inspired by a painting I found at a flea market on a summer afternoon many years ago. It was actually ironic in so many ways, for as I looked at the image in the painting I thought I was looking at my eldest son when he was a young boy. They could have been twins. Needless to say I bought the painting, which now hangs upon my bedroom wall. ~ R.B. >All rights reserved by Author< 
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