Painted Doll

Her body, a canvas
The curves of her hips,
waited to be explored.
Fingertips like bristle,
staining her skin,
painting a story
Mapping an existence.

A kaleidascope of color,
melting like crayons
in the summer's sun.
Her smile creates
animation, in a
still frame picture.

She looks at me
with crystallic eyes
Her innocence consumed in a
silky maze of iridescences.


She was to be the prettiest
picture I'd ever painted.