It sits boldly, proudly perched on the stilled flatness of teak and cloth, silently calling to be noticed and adored. Its undulating shape and coloring suggesting the birthing from a creative parent, spilling with emotion and artistic individuality. Its form is smooth and seductive. The overall appearance unique and intriguing of personality, soul, and being.
My eyes are sirenly drawn to its shape and curvature not unlike the attraction of ones first love. My heart beats faster as voice penetrates my mind, echoing through my self is a calling beaconing my further attention, begging for the touch of my hands on the bareness of its coloured skin. My wanting of this only increases as my hands fold around its figure bringing the enchanted longing to purpose, for this figure of art, grace and beauty would become my muse.
Hurriedly I rush to pay a king’s ransom for the privilege of taking home this delight of whimsical attainment. Whispers from my muse growing louder to return home and mount in adornment and appreciation where all can witness its beauty. I spare no time in my return and with careful, skilled hands wiping down with a sacred cloth as if consummating an inspired romance.
Finally, I take my muse in my arms and approach the mantle. Lowering my muse on the floor by the fireplace. Gazing at the reflective sparkle of fire against its skin, the mantle would be too distant for its beauty. For its deserving to be center room and closer to me.