Ink  And Breath Poem by Makhosonke Dhlamini

Ink  and Breath


Tragic ink, it paints clouds without rain,
Beautiful pauses at the wind's gentle breath.
All craft converges to make Mona Lisa's eyes
Blink at your beauty, a fleeting, ethereal death.

Memory of time cannot bury your effulgent smile,
Which mocks mere talent, transcending art.
All that's left is feeling; I can paint nor claim
To sculpt conviction that does not breathe or start.

Your beauty and love
defy epitaphs frame.

By Makhosonke Dhlamini