Meet me by the shadows & ponds of light where
butterflies mill about like tourists.
We’ll keep museum hours.
Sleep on Mondays, shades drawn.
Live beyond the gaze. Yet watched over
by a cherub or perhaps it’s a cumulous cloud.
We could live comfortably beneath
the brushstrokes. Let the world chatter
about intention & meaning. Remember darling
we were once the original impulse—
conceived as blueprint, like Adam & Eve
by the Grand Artist here in our Eden.
Let’s vow that when we see one another
beyond the canvas, we’ll both look away.