Da Vinci and Mona

Soft as brush

Bright as colors

Is my one and only lover.

Lips roll back with each stroke gentle

and smooth in every word he spoke.

Finger tips made of paint

Along with his thumbnail palette

Nails lost in swirled colors.

His face fare with every nip at his lip

A new color to fit.

Mind as free as the ocean breeze

Eyes as blue a mountain hue

Skin a soft sand beach,

Hair made of the skies cloud world view

Which sways in the music he plays.

The heart a home of beauty

Yet sometimes invases with greed,

This color boy is my boy

But never owned by me.