A holiday romance
“Come into my studio,”
said the artist to the passer-by.
The invitation was actually
a notice pinned to the closed leaf
of an old wooden door:
OPEN STUDIO
____________________
MEET ARTIST
AT WORK IN HER STUDIO
I spotted it across the stone street.
On the deep shade side of the strict
demarcation line, as opposed
to the blaze of sunlight on the other.
I had to stretch to reach the top
of the steep step. Stepped
gingerly over the high threshold.
Tentatively entered the studio
through the open leaf of the door.
It took a moment for my eyes
to adjust to the interior gloom.
Perhaps some effort is always required
to enter the artist’s world.
Colour then exploded around me.
And composition. A magic eye.
The essence of the island.
Sea, mountains, harbour, boats.
I fell in love. I still bask in its light.
Exotic colour on my living room wall,
every day in the muted tones of home.
oooh – that builds to give a hint of something else, more exciting, underneath – another layer to the words!!!! (or am I just getting carried away? or should I just get carried away – before you say it). The beginning reminds me of “come into my parlour – said the spider to the fly” which sets me on edge a bit and creates a great atmosphere. Would you give stanza 2 a bit of a pruning where you have repeated yourself?