Masterpiece

Another masterpiece. For me?

Monet made attempts,
baby steps, really.
But You not only spark
but flame day after day.

World weary, I ask
what is the purpose of
such sweet sensuous
just-this-side-of-gaudy
displays of color?
Just more perfume
poured out on dirty feet?
I don’t deserve it.
I rarely even notice it.

I hear you saying to the world:

Pay attention.
This is what my love for you looks like.
I will not keep my mercy in a box.
I pour it out on all creation
with audacious use of color,
texture, height, depth.
I give you skin to feel
wind on your face,
ears to hear crickets,
eyes to see sunsets,
tongue to taste
my outrageous love
for you,
my greatest masterpiece.