A Happy painting hung from a rusty nail,
I stared deeply at it and let my thoughts sail
The woman seemed happy and at trance
Or so it seemed at a glance
Her eyes were deep and sad
Her lips were wry with a melancholy
The air was dense and grim
Her hair was tied and gown was prim
Her eyes trailed far ahead of time
her vision seemed to inundate my thoughts, no reason or rhyme
The cloistered painting was my locus
There was nothing else for me to focus
I gazed at it earnestly
The brush, skill and paint
Even a flaw or a missed stroke would have been faint
Did the beauty lie in the hue
Or did the artist deserve his due
A surge of delectation dashed through my heart
Would my amour propre allow me to appreciate his art
My eyes espied the expertise
Finding a flaw should have been a breeze
The lady leered at my lack of adeptness
My poise was put off balance
My ire was inflamed
An inferno of infuriation engulfed my identity
Shackled in a strop, I hasten to that beaming face
I inch closer with a massive mace
It tears across the gentle paper
I was too old for this caper
Envy engulfed my soul
With a smile of satisfaction, I walked away from the room
The world had to be prepared for impending doom
Who were they to fear
Was it my vanity, my vying or my rampage that would cost them, dear?
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