Face on Canvas

I visited the national portrait gallery and wrote this poem afterwards in the crypt of St Martin in the fields.

I thought about being surrounded by snapshots of these people’s souls. They will live forever in the inspired mind.

Face on canvas

A face on stretched canvas

Imbibing the soul

a deep mirrored glow

In strength and in beauty

The vulnerable show

Separated by time

The body now long dead

A traveller piece of a moment

An auspiciously delicate thread

The feelings of passion

The dark hour of despair

Captured with a brushstroke

With our minds to ensnare

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