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The Painter

A blank canvas, 
A bright palette,
His hand begins to write,  
A masterpiece is created.

Each stroke of his brush, 
A story is told, 
A peep into the soul of his beloved, 
A sight he could not look away from, 
A transient moment of her that he saw,
He wasn't sure, if he could see her again,
So he makes the canvas breath.

As the paint dries,
He touches the painting as it's her face,
He stares into her deep black eyes,
And wishes her presence.
Far away, he hears the sound of wedding bells,
He wonders if he and his beloved could ever be together.

There in that far away land,
Is a lady,
Someone's beloved getting married,
And he didn't realise,
That his beloved was with him only,
Now that he lost her, he yearns for her,
And there is no turning back.

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