My fingers touch dry strokes
from a brush
on a canvas from last year.
So delicately you worked that piece.
The landscape –
brilliant greens and soft browns,
ochre fused with other blends from a palette.
Beautiful depth and life
on taut cotton,
on pine.
My fingers move gently
over trees and hedgerows
and I imagine your hands on my face –
a moment alone,
with you in my mind.

Jack Brewis