Tilla by Bob Atkinson

Tilla

(c)2012 Bob Atkinson

fame and beauty radiate

as shown by Renoir's touch

longing to continue bonds

sliced cold by the lawyer's thrust

years ago out in the fields

his friend had seen the light

with transition carried through

from the living to the dying

by his own design and cause

the painter's hand had ended

all his own trials and problems

those formerly pretended

were of no consequence
not worth a simple thought
wee problems not to be worried on
of those he cared for not

the parallels to this time

seemed simply very close

Van Gogh had had enough

and wanted final closure

Paul knew his chance for happiness

with pleasantries and broad smiles

were so slim it seemed to him

all threads had become untied

here in her lawyer's office

he saw his life dissipate

no longer future oriented

but all his pasts cremated

strong desire settled in

and took his will to live

smothered all his active soul

and simply did him in

action of another kind

that which we do not understand

sent him to his grassy field

prone on his back reclined

he tried to tell them not to

separate her life from his

then he moved to be alone

and consider all of this

solo he pondered where to go

how to continue on with these events

if loneliness felt bad to him

how could he reconcile his sins

those simple things he wanted

to that action she proposed

finding divergence of their lives

not something he could hold

sat in a room, all by himself

in a leather covered chair

and moved his hand across his face

feeling mouth turned down so sad

with honesty he weighed the actions

where's the next logical move from here?

then all was ended of his pain and suffering

with his favorite pistol's kiss

had he known that life goes on

and gets better after gauntlets

would have seen the sunlight beam

not the shadow's unlighted hauntings

for even though you think it is

the final end to all you are

another waits around the corner

to satisfy all your wants for love

had he looked down the hall

to the lonely widow crying
a simple gesture of good faith
would bond them both so tightly

hold her so she never cries
or feels deep pain again
hold her so you can go on
seeing purpose in your whims

a hand upon another's hand
a smile into an anguished face

no fuss, struggle or lies be told
approach your life with grace

a simple gaze in her wet blue eyes
gives her comfort with your stare
take her card and leave this room
call for her in a year