The Portrait

I am so lonely, so alone
Just solitude and I,
Gazing ‘pon the daffodils
Under a painted sky.

A village looms, so close behind
But I can never look,
For I am now just as I was
When he my image took.

I was so lonely, so alone
But now I have been found:
Picked up, retrieved from dusty grave
Atop the dusty ground.

That village loomed, too far perhaps
But now I have a home:
From dusty grave on dusty ground
To washed white walls to roam.

Days passed back then:
My heart still beat,
But now it has no sound
Perhaps one day I’ll feel again
Though now to my canvas I'm bound.