Portrait (No 4) (Poetry)

Oh, that this canvas could be flesh —
its texture tender skin —
that paint could breathe and colour sigh
the thoughts held tight within!

If lips half-parted — drawn so still —
could open wide and shout
of long-kept dreams and hopes too wild —
let those deep passions out.

If all the contents of her heart
were strewn like pebbles — bright
that face would surely come alive
and smile in sheer delight.

In two dimensions she exists
within the picture’s frame
the third I’d give her if I could
and know, at last, her name.