Of brushstrokes, feminine

Of brush strokes, feminine

Sometimes I think of you
Like brushstrokes on walls,
Painted pretty abstract
Till the sense upon me falls,

Is that what I thought?  I think I ask
To myself true,
Looking at the strokes of brush
As if looking at you,

Sometimes on papers
Beautiful designs emerge
When I think you and
Waves of passions surge,

Somewhere on the canvas,
Somewhere on walls,

Is that what I thought,
Whence sensory perceptions fall,
Upon me like a painted scene
A canvas perhaps meaningless,
But then, in words and beyond
You, the Beauty, I trace,

There I find you oft,
Sitting just in front of me,
 painted,  brushstrokes filled
And with a book of poetry.