"Cicely" Bonaparte, 1808

Written by: lana evans

She's strikingly fair in the purest of red
Pearls grace her neck, a band on her head

Enthroned on a seat plush as is down
I just can't get over her brilliant red gown

Gazing like Jesus, her cheeks softly pink
She smiles like Mona, oh what does she think?

She reminds me of my dear Cicely
Somewhat straight forward, somewhat a mystery

Perfect her posture, graceful her arms
Banding her wrist a bracelet of charms

At least that's what my Cicely would wear
In ten-year-old elegance, smiling so fair

God! I can't get over how it looks like her so!
Oh where, oh where did my Cicely go?