The Sitter and the Sage

He spotted her amongst Lautrec and Pissaro
he was the last of his kind
and at the end of the day
he begged permission to say:

I see you hiding in the shade of Monet
I see you between the crack
I see you there holding the earth
from shattering your place
Yes, my dear, I do
I see you where the pale shadow's
Can't shroud my view
I am old but I see you
I would see you without the silhouette of Degas
without Renoir, without the light
I can still draw you
from my youth
my memory serves
and I would like permission to sketch
because I see you hidden in my blush
and tho you are obscured
beside the others, in the shelter of Renoir
I see your eyes of reticence
their flecks of gold and gray
and they betray you
I see you and I know
you must forgive the one
who said 'I see your pride'
for he meant only to instill modesty when my old hand sees you
among the metier beside Degas and Renoir
without the tone of ordinary
without a grain of diffidence
beneath the cast of movement
I see my kind
you are my template
I see you and have no need to be indifferent
surrounded by antiquities
I see you
and wish only to remember