The Purple Rose

"The Purple Rose"

I painted a picture of a purple rose.

I made it as simple as possible: one hue, one tone.

For, I see something greater than beauty in simplicity. Not quite holiness, but not the ordinary.

It is not the stuff of Angels. It is not the thing of any god, spirit, or magician. It is not a trick, but not quite the truth, for it seems to think the mysterious is somewhat serious.

It reminds me of time. In comparison, it makes time's logic seem blind. Is it within reason? I'm not sure. The sensation seems to dance on the edge of perception, smiling while it finds the bright in life.

You'd think I created something inspired by creation. No. It was a person. They gave me two words, and it turned into yearning.

Wanting to see the beauty they see. What I see is something different, a bit too deep. She seems to be at the beach from time to time, and wouldn't it be nice to just like life.

Those moments can be rare. When the sun is just right, no fright, no sound but delight. Yet, these words are too sharp, for the actual feeling is quite mellow.

When the light is a kind shade of yellow, and the sky a gentle blue, it makes me want to paint a purple rose, for just you.