I have a secret. Actually, it is an old one. It has to be.
You see I’ve been doing it for ages, even in public…
I do it on the grass, in my workshop, in front of my family, in front of strangers.
And all anyone says is – wow. That’s good. Or – I wish I could do that like you. Or sometimes – I would rework it just there.
What is it?
I can only be one thing – my art.
As I draw you, I run my hands around your neck.
I trace along your collarbone and wonder at your form.
If you are being held I am there, just for a moment, my hands working to mould your body, to make you take shape on a blank page.
If you cry, I cry with you. If you are fearful I see you and feel it alongside you. If you are fierce I am a force to be reckoned with. If you want to hide, I tuck you into my hands and hold you tight.
And when I am finished you speak to not just me, but others, and it is their turn to share my secret.
Until then you are mine, and I hold you as close as any lover.