For the Love of Art
I decided to accept this writing prompt and my love letter (well, poem really) will be to Frederick Leighton's "Flaming June," oil, c. 1895. Liquid gold Drips off every curve Every delicate fold Rest your heavy head My tired nymph Or are you a naiad? Classicism is safe here Sleep sweet dreams dear And in the depths of rest Have no fear The Oleander suggests death But there is only life here They don't take you seriously Perhaps they have yet to see There is more to you than the promotion of travel Or the vain strive for deep meaning Or delicate detail You are real But just a dream You are more And yet remain as simple as what is seen And in your simplicity Lies the making of complexity The brink of thought Just out of reach Trying to grasp some Scheme or theme That lies just past the mind As if a recollection Of a fleeting dream