My Painted Dream

Early one morning, as I begin to stretch and tack the canvas to the wooden frame, I try to decide what it is I want to paint. I placed my easel and paints near the north window of my studio; the northern light is the purest and best for mixing paints. I then slid my stool across the ruff cut floor boards to the easel. As I sat looking out the window   I try to think of what I should paint.  I could tell from the shadows of the trees that the sun was beginning to rise, and then at that moment it came to me. I began to have a recollection of her and started to mix colors for olive colored skin. I take out a brush and dip it into the paint. I begin to caress her face onto the canvas.  Working my hands down her silky olive skin, her hour glass figure begins to take shape. I am at awe with her beauty; she is so natural, so pure, one of the greatest creations. As I place down the pallet a slight gust of wind came in through the window and she became so real that I could envision her hair flowing with the breeze in tones of chestnuts sets me at ease. I softly placed drops of blue paint on each side of her nose creating the windows of her soul. Her eyes with hues of the Mediterranean Sea, they penetrated me as if she were looking right through me.  As her body came to completion, my recollection of her came to life right in front of me sitting upon my easel.