The Painter

Thank you to the artist who inspired this piece.
Thank you to the artist Steve Henderson; Ocean Breeze.   His work can be found here:


Anticipation rose with the amber dawn as the painter made his way down to the garden. Yellow Hibiscus smiled from the edge of a faded green lawn, which stretched from the back steps ending sharply where creamy beach sand spread out toward the ocean. He sat on the wooden stool beside his easel, as he had for the last month, clutching a clean paint brush in one hand and an empty pallet in the other.

As the sun cleared the horizon, she came strolling up from the south. Dressed in soft flowing cotton, the fabric dancing around her slight frame in the warm ocean breeze.

Empty days passed.  He waited and watched. She appeared with the dawn, her sun-colored tresses twirled and twisted around her pretty tear-streaked face.

He dared not go to her as she sank to her knees and wept. Her shoulders shuddered, and her chest heaved from the great heartache that tortured her soul.

His loneliness echoed her emptiness. For too long, he had dwelt in a dark solitude of his making – mourning the death of his talent. But watching her  stirred a longing to walk up and cradle her in his arms, to nurture her and tell her all would be well.


The fifth day was no different from the previous four. She sat on the sand and disgorged her pain, and the painter suffered quietly with her.

Who or what she despaired for, he did not know, but her tears reached out and stroked his numbed heart.

No longer able to resist, he walked past the sweet scented Hibiscus, sat down on the sand behind her and pulled her to him.  His arms wrapped around her shaking body.
No words were spoken as they enfolded in each other’s embrace, giving and taking in equal parts.

On the sixth day, inspiration awoke from its deathlike slumber. It yawned and stretched its weary form, gripping the painter’s hand and dancing an artist’s dance across the blank canvas, leaving behind inspired strokes of brilliant color. All the while, his eyes remained frozen on her; like a poultice on a wound, they soaked up every drop of her misery.

Here in his world of pigment and design, she was no longer wracked with sorrow. Here, he saw her happy and laughing, dancing in the wind, free from misery.


On the seventh day, a familiar joy stirred in the hollow void of his soul. He made his way down to the garden, sat and waited, his insides exploding with creative exuberance.
When she appeared, the painter noticed her step was lighter and her face brighter. It was as though the broken wraith of previous days had evaporated, and the woman he had created had leaped from the canvas and now stood rejoicing on the beach before him.

His heart soared as she raised her arms to the heavens, her face upturned, her smile brighter than the sun, her soul lighter than the breeze.
Angelic in her stance.

The waves calmed in her presence, and the wind slowed to a slight hum. All was new and fresh on this first day of forever.
They exchanged a knowing and grateful adieu as she slowly faded, her form misting into the sea spray behind her.


#romance #celebratelove #inspiration


3 thoughts on “The Painter

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