The portrait of you:
I never finished; unable to…
the portrait of you;
lies there
Still, in a windswept studio
Upon the easel, alone. Where I left you.
The boatman leads me now across the river Styx.
I think of my path back; up through the walkway from behind the sandy beach, over the road, up the hill; open the gate, walk to out house’s wooden door, up the stairs, open the door and I see you,
Upon the easel, still waiting for me;
Alas, still windswept studio;
the portrait of you,
lies there.
Yet whilst I was there, I still missed you more;
I am motionless, a breathless ghost,
I died many years ago; I still listen…
I miss most, your voice.
I’ve missed you for the rest of my life…
It’s been a while since you left me.
before you left me alone, in my studio. It has been truly empty ever since, like my soul.
hands, crinkled, broken, in pain, painting. Forever waiting for Valhalla, painting a picture of you.
We shall meet again.
I am near the end of my journey now, the boatman points in the direction of Valhalla.
We shall meet again, my love.