Perhaps everything else was just an illusion
You were but posing with
Your own hopes
In your own thoughts

Some teardrops went a missing from your face
Perhaps I stole them (did you realize that?)
And never gave them back to you, I’m sorry
I saw you searching for it
Frantically (even as you smilingly
Pretended to be my model)
And I was trying hard to keep it away
From you (even as I was outside you)
Fumbling with the pencil
To perfect the
Curves and mounds under your clothes

I saw you.

Yes, nude I sketched you
Because nude you were.
Denuded, you exposed your
Melancholy, you exposed the storm inside
I captured the silent storm
On paper, and silly you,
You wanted to cover it up.
How silly could you get
How could I have explained
I had but only my eyes
And my paper.

And they tell a story as easily
As they try to portray one.

There was more to the story I am sure,
But your innocence, your fear
cut it short. But I wouldn’t
want to disturb you
I would leave you with your silence
But I won’t forget you.
And I must thank you,
Because another sketch remains
Incomplete.

Happy New Year to you Guylaine,
a very good friend, you’ll remain.