Canvass

My own hands calloused and scarred
recognise the perfection of hard work
hours of sanding and buffing
to render a solitary piece of timber
satisfactory, ready to polish

her skin reflects that same
texture and quality
a light amber tan,
a cedar, smoothed
perfect in it's imperfections
the grains that run and play
along it's length and width
imbue it with beauty

I examine every inch of her
the dimples in her knees,
her areoulas a darker hue,
the shifting tan lines of exposure
to sunlight, timber tans too,
a tell tale bruise from her bra line
almost like stressed wood,
the cleft of her sex
inspired, with it's smattering of
styled hair

What I could create with such a canvass