The Kiss.
Blossoms burst with color,
as varied and bright, as a painter’s pallet,
in the field to which they flee. A
kaleidoscope of violet, red and ochre
vines entangle her
feet as she kneels draped in his embrace.
A mosaic of flowers bloom on her
garnet hair and amber gown,
both more radiant than the finest stone.
Her beauty rivals that of the meadow.
The sky burns bronze as the day
releases to night. Particles of
gold dance from the lovers.
Could it be sparks of passion an
erupting heart can no longer contain?
He gathers her, his yellow cloak
enveloping both, as his lips
ignite her cheek red with longing.
At dusk everything seems to glow, as the sun
rushes down just ahead of the horizon.
The world is briefly suspended between
day and night, a moment of stillness. Serendipity
prevails, successful in her search for seconds -
secret lovers stall
fate.
The Kiss by Gustav Klimt