Flora

She is a silhouette becoming faint
As years go by.
She is the only one I want to paint,
Won’t say goodbye.
She is a precious memory of spring
Amid the snows
In this unknown terrain where echoes ring
And nothing grows.

She is a goddess on a floral throne,
My timeless muse,
My secret temple that will not be thrown
Into disuse.
She is my dream, my masterpiece, my fate.
I’ll never let
My grief defeat me as the colours wait
On my palette.

I paint her portraits endlessly. I stay
Awake all night.
Inside my solitude where shadows sway
She is my light,
My angel breathing life into my art.
My feelings rush
Out of the deepest place inside my heart
Into my brush.

She’s all that’s left to me and even though
I know she’s gone,
I paint her loveliness on canvas so
She can live on.


Flora by Rembrandt van Rijn, 1654