Jacqueline

A lover of religous songs dallies with another name, stands looking long, regards things she's honed, canvas from a former game, doubts she's ever alone, in many ways she's not, lost within a frame, the work is all her own, yellow nights she loans, what is given away, sometimes brings her home, painting lets her belong, colours spun like nails, matchsticks in a storm, the toil of other thrones, she honours in their reign, her hand firm as stone, music for another day.