Impatience and Equanimity

 

A shroud of silence

       envelops me

            as I watch the scene, the images

                 materialize.

            beneath your knowing hand

The vibrant shades on your canvas

                           haunt me.

 

I feel the sharp stroke of your sable brush

            as you connect the jagged edges

                      of our banter.

Your graceful hand moves

            slowly, leisurely

                      across my being.

Gaps

            linger in the pattern

                 of us.

 

Impatient

               I speak sharply;

               annoyed by your

                              equanimity.

You smile gently;

               slow is good,

                    you reply.