A Man's Oil
She was not very pretty
Her smile was somewhat witty
And unhappy sitting still
In the noon wet winter chill
When night came, she wished to stay
Nay said I, be still I pray
But away she strolled hostile
She'd enough of her false smile
Her soul on canvas captured
I took those thoughts discoloured
On the journey of my life
As a decayed deceased wife
Mona Lisa
Louvre
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