She Hangs From the Beams
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This does not represent the place where I work :) .
She hangs from the beams from way up above,
Sways not making a sound,
Patiently waits to be noticed by me,
Patiently waits to be found,
With sun pouring through the hole in the wall,
Pouring all over her torn,
Her beautifully dark, broken down clothes,
Her clothes that she had once worn,
And she looks straight ahead, not budging her stare,
A smile escaping her cage,
A smile that’s not even meant to be seen,
A smile that hides all her rage,
And I sit, all alone, watching her hang,
My beautiful obedient slave,
My black and white painting of love on the wall,
In my studio, my office, my cave.
Copyright © Lewis Raynes | Year Posted 2018
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