The Painter And His Poet

He, with his ebony hair and ivory skin,
Picked up his brushes and an empty canvas
She, with raven curls and cherry blushes
picked up her pencil and an empty notebook

She sat down, to write endlessly
About the way his hands were gifted
with the ability to create art
That was just as beautifull,
as him.

He stood in front of his easel, painting
portraits of her, sitting, smiling,
standing or crying
always writing.

He's her inspiration
and she's his muse
They made love an art.