At twilight, I knew she was awake
with illuminescent essence in acrylic
and the brush strokes as my eyes dart
back and forth over the nightly canvas
with my own deep breath as the lacquer,
sleepily drifting into heightened hues
that touched the lake as watercolors
and oxidized oils stretching the beyond,
then the pink pigments began pixilation
as my thoughts scattered and came to rest
upon her soft pastel face that glistened,
and at dawn, I knew she again slumbered.
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