Van Gogh French Peasant Woman (after Dalou)

Tiny fingers
Wrinkled from 9 months pressing
Cling to her finger
Like a falling man to the rope
That holds his salvation
So tiny
So perfect
So helpless
So alive
And she is protector, provider
Nourishing the spark of life
As it blooms like her summer garden
He gurgles 
Eyes shining
At shapes he cannot define
Wriggling at her voice, her touch
She smiles, touching a peach-soft cheek
Showing her own dimples
A hand drops to her shoulder
And she warms
At his voice, his touch
She feels they are complete
Hanging over the chasm of tomorrow.


Passion  Abuse