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a picasso

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this night,
my night,
‘twas like a picasso painting.
not an inch of canvas lacking paint,
images leaving questions,
and a strange,
   satisfied hunger.

a string of waking dreams.
oh, if only someone
could have been there
by bed side
taking notes.
the morning regimen
rushed in to fill the void.
up, off and out.
greeted by the same sense of abandonment
and fate
as any other time.
yet towards the end
‘twas greeted by the words
"it takes some time
  little girl
  everything will be alright..."
so then right on cue
a tingly nose,
and a tear
brought back their familiar company.
and then, closing in,
natalie greeted me with a smile,
and warmed my heart
as she seems to do more and more
as i mellow.

seven is here now,
so i push it all down,
way down,
put on the game face.
if only they knew,
if only they knew,
the depth and wild varied range
of thought and feeling.
it makes it all
quite surreal,
like a picasso painting.

© 2002 (5 april) john r. chase

i know, he was the father of cubism...