Figure Paint

A Relationship changes.

The fall winds blow, the maples turn red

when I come through there's a chill in your bed;
the sky folds up, there's lacquer on blue
eight days a week I was looking for you.
(What prayer could move a saint? Figure paint.)

Like autumn gold that eases the night
we held each other as we forged delight;
the change is stark, autumn now afire
the form is null, a set without desire.
(What storms can we explain? Figure rain.)

We climbed the Eiffel Tower and we felt the Paris sun.
Our love danced on the boulevard as our two hearts were one.
Storm clouds kissed the summer dome and urged the fall of lies.
The oil on our canvas formed odd silhouetted skies.
(Helplessly, I watch the shapes and colors wane. Figure pain.)

The orange and yellow now litter the land
like broken dreams of a woman and man;
our season's now tempera to pop,
my shades bled for you but now I must stop.
(What we had was so quaint: Figure paint.)