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.

No comments:

Post a Comment

The Incidence

  of war yesterday we went to war to rid the world of want filling coffers with oil  vast vats grains dark powders spice life water and wine...