The Portrait

Her legacy of beauty hung unchanged and serious above my cluttered desk. The shadows sketched unworldly creatures-strange anomalies around her. Their grotesque demeanor's: demonic-wildly dancing a celebratory rite on the wall. Dubiety! Perhaps I am dreaming. And yet I still observe ethereal, surreal visions. Perhaps pinch myself That's it! I'll twist a bit of living flesh. Oh! Ouch! The pain is real as life itself. The portrait! …Changed! Her likeness diminished by far. Her comely grace I once beheld become a hag where beauty once had dwelled.