Flaming June

Many times I have slipped easily into sleep, like a soft brush into paint,

Losing myself in ochre, crimson and saffron

Like an Indian woman wearing a sari.

I confess, I've loved dreams,

Courted them and cherished them--

But Darling, now June arrives through the curtains with the morning

And I flame,

I wake with your name on my lips--

Beatrice,

Shakti,

My Own.

_______

the painting is "Flaming June" by Frederick Lord Leighton, 1895.