You look serenely out of Your picture frame
into my world, and my eyes behold Your
changing face - as through passing seasons
changing skies of raging whipped willowing
clouds pass behind those Peace-filled Eyes,
ribboned paint pulsating off Your face, riveting
slowly down the frame of Your countenance -
to behold a metamorphosing image of You
each morning when I arise to stand
in front of Your picture frame