THAT PICTURE
The picture on our parlor wall
Is really not my taste at all.
The thing was chosen by my wife;
I hung it for a quiet life.
She tells me it’s the modern trend,
A concept I can’t comprehend.
A picture, to appeal to me,
Should look like what it’s meant to be.
Just what this artist had in mind,
Well I don’t mean to be unkind
But what it is I have no clue
And, if you saw it, nor would you.
Lots of swirls and lots of slashes
And a load of random splashes.
But I’m afraid it’s here to stay.
It doesn’t matter what I say.
Regardless of the charm it lacks,
At least it hides those plaster cracks.
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