Epilogue



Jolie Laide

There she hangs, his masterpiece and her own,

Immortalised in paint, painted over until,

A finished moment masks all that went before.


This Jolie Laide, new illusion of truth,

breaks the old mirror of imagined beauty and,

Up rise a confluence of feelings


As we stand before it.

Today, a new day, a film, a song.

Hidden, Eyes protected, Razor sharp brim foreclosing our reach. I Only a n air kiss  for your First Lady. The wind tries to take it.  Anothe...