"The Shadowed Room"

In my room there is a broom
to sweep away the memories
of the lady in the painting
lying with a man both bare

on the latticed padded chair
that I painted on the easel
so ashamed to see them there,
my wife and her love affair.

Must I hate and wait
or escape to seal their fate
my mind now so confused
in this lonely room,

to paint a shaded shape
of the face I must efface
in my imagination,
lying there with her so bare.

I wake to see
the easel near
and sketch a face
of another lady fair,

to love and adore
in my room
without the broom
the memories gone.

But can a man
with a troubled soul
look upon a painting
without a name?

36-Lines