BED OF ROSES

 

oil on panel,  18in. x 22in.  ±45.7cm. x 55.9cm.

 

 

 

ARTIST'S WRITING

 

 

CLOSER DETAILS

 

BED OF ROSES

 

 

Too soft, too warm, too tempting dry

Inside we sleep to a windowed sky

A tap at the pane between us and rain

Wrapped by a comfort less scratched by pain

This bed; soft of roses and sugared fleece

It's beauty; an illusion of life at peace

The mind spins around the slack hand of laze

Seized by the ease of lethal lost days

Ticking, the time, nonstop away

Gone, gone, gone are those days

Time to get up, cross the fields of fray

Outside - though stressed, though met by a chill

The air brings intent, an aim and a will

And the roses are met

Yet

By a heart unstill