the singing butler

i was recently given a writing prompt, to write a poem inspired by a painting. here's the painting and the poem i wrote:

-(1992) The Singing Butler, Jack Vettriano-

his hand didn’t dare sink lower, fearing a

quick slap to his freshly

shaven cheek, a sting

his heart would not quickly forget.

Lady Crimson’s silk gloves tickled his carefully

manicured hands, and his mind flashed back

to that summer night, when the gloves glided

down, pooling on his cold wooden floor,

and her hands ran through his trimmed hair.

how the red dress that now clung to her curves,

brushing her ankles that were sprinkled with grains

of golden sand,

slid off her shoulders and down her pale arms

the clouds now were growing darker,

yet his forbidden didn’t stop dancing.

the umbrellas were suffering,

losing a battle to the distant gale that

would soon devour them.

still his forbidden didn’t stop dancing.

the waves grew taller, the water

lapped at their knees,

and the rain crashed down, drowning

out the protests of the two spectators

afraid of being caught by their master,

who was running down the beach.

still his lady kept dancing.

and then he was dancing too,

letting go of all etiquette, freeing himself of the anchor

that had kept his love for her

under the rupturing seams of his borrowed suit.

the two danced, into the ocean

and under the waves,

the wind sweeping them away

to dance together for all eternity.