If only she knew 2

Note from the author:

This poem is a continuation of or ‘sequel’ to the original If only she knew.

Holding that strip of canvas
a faint, distant smile.
Plain to see—a result
of weeks’ dedication;
wherefore has this been made?
The colours are so beautiful too—
if only she knew.

Steps back, a lady depicted
bright, ripe colours
fertile, lush greens
with deep, rich umber
and glowing blue;
if only she knew.

The cloth falls onto the ground,
a mind of its own.
But from a distance,
such a small shred
grows—north, south
in every heavenly path.
Fills the room;
now there are two;
if only she knew.

The painter, elsewhere
a sweating, nervous wreck
pulse beating on his neck.
He hopes deeply
almost beyond hope itself
that the message will come through
and she knows
what he feels is true;
if only, if only she knew.

Beautiful lady is perplexed
thankfully remains unvexed.
Wait—a gasp—she sees it;
her heart, matches with a flit.
She’s been looking in a mirror:
make no mistake, this is no error,
this glorious canvas
painted with such tact, class
heart now a chargèd rod.
This painter—oh god
such a charming gentleman
his affectionate way definitely can
stir up the wildest feelings inside of me
ones even I have not managed to see.
Such beautiful emotions of many a hue
That was the moment,
that was the moment she knew.