Maybe the girl in the painting isn’t lonely.
She’s not standing on the cliff contemplating
How small she is- her insignificance.
The darkness of the night isn’t bearing down
Suffocating the flame of her hope.
The crashing waves below aren’t violently
Reminding her of nature’s power over her.
The stars aren’t unattainable, distant souls
Of people she’s lost, leaving her alone.
Maybe the girl in the painting isn’t waiting.
She’s not standing on the cliff anticipating
A person, a friend of much significance.
The darkness of the night isn’t a comforting
Privacy, protecting their personal world.
The crashing waves below aren’t lovingly
Forming the beauty of the cliffs like he does for her.
The stars aren’t infinite opportunities for wishes
Of a comforting future for them together.
Maybe the girl in the painting is happy alone!
She’s standing on the cliff reveling
In the vast beauty, external and internal.
The darkness of the night is a canvas
For her to bring her smile’s bright paint.
The crashing waves are her personal symphony
Creating a soundtrack to her night-walk reverie.
The stars are hopes of so many like herself,
Perfectly content out in this shared gift that is the world.