The Perfect Painting
It does not exist
The Louvre lusts for such a work of art
Napoleon and Louis both depressed
The perfect painting does not hang
There may have been an artist one day
Capable of such a feat
I tell you now, this was not to be
Nothing perfect in those decrepit paintings of history
The perfect painting will come to pass
When the stars of fate align
You shall fall with in my sights
As I turn my charm into woven gold
I will have you in my arms so close
I shall create a palette of rainbows
As I paint my love for you
Then my lass you shall see
The perfect painting
A mirror of beauty bestowed
Hung on the halls where angels sing
Divine is the statuesque
The perfect painting
Of you
Copyright © Arthur Vaso | Year Posted 2014
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