A Woman's Heart

*Inspired by The Skiff by Pierre-Auguste Renoir*

Image From The National Gallery

By LN Alberts


A myriad of color burst free with every stroke,
spoiling the gentle flush painted on her cheek.
No longer a reflection, still waters now awoke,
a dance across the surface where sun and air meet.

The tepid summer breeze offers little respite,
from the oppressive pass of Helios at noon.
“A jaunty trip” she offers, ever so polite.
No destination, no time set. Our return? “Soon.”

Free from the shores that threaten to hem us in,
we find a peacefulness among the trout and duck.
The baneful suitors’ glares no longer count our sin
as we swap stories of the ancient heroes’ luck.

“Odysseus cannot compare,” she insists to me,
“to the clever tricks of Circes and her magic spell.”
Intent to prove the creation of a fallacy,
in the so-called epic that Homer tried to sell.

I listen with a patient ear to her fierce defense,
and cannot help admiring her impassioned plea.
Within a woman’s heart there lies a resolute sense
to cast aside the painter and set the canvas free.

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