You have the face of an angel
Though I know you’re no saint,
Which colours to choose
Your portrait to paint?
Your eyes they are brown
Yet that one’s more green
And I have to get close
For the gold to be seen.
Your sensuous mouth
That teases me so
Is pink as the tongue
That tells me no.
Yet the fire in your brain,
Crackles white through to blue
Electricity flowing
Between me and you.
The fire in your heart?
Flickers orange and yellow
Not burning as bright
Not your fault, decent fellow.
The skin on your bones
Is a warm sandy brown
From all of those trips
Overseas, out of town.
The hair on your head
Is a warm sandy blonde
Will it darken with age
As time beckons beyond?
Then there’s the girl
Standing there next to you.
What colours for her
If I painted her too?
Why all of the colours
That come from the sun –
She’s a rainbow reflected,
But to you? She’s just fun.
© Emily Page
