Smeared Detail

Alone, I absorbed myself in the restoration of a painting.
Remember the oil pastel we had left out in the sun too long?
It provided me with the satisfaction of something to salvage.
Together, we had stretched wet canvas
over the inconvenience of space.
You left it to dry, while I was consumed with the surface.
It was the size of canvas you had chosen for "A Picnic Scene."
I said it was too grand for the soft nature of my style.
Now the lady with the pink and white sun hat sits smudged.
And while her twin boys roll around on a smeared blanket,
the sky runs into bleeding dandelions.