The Portrait
Her legacy of beauty hung unchanged
and serious above my cluttered desk.
The shadows sketched unworldly creatures-strange
anomalies around her. Their grotesque
demeanor's: demonic-wildly dancing
a celebratory rite on the wall.
Dubiety! Perhaps I am dreaming.
And yet I still observe ethereal,
surreal visions. Perhaps pinch myself
That's it! I'll twist a bit of living flesh.
Oh! Ouch! The pain is real as life itself.
The portrait! …Changed! Her likeness diminished
by far. Her comely grace I once beheld
become a hag where beauty once had dwelled.
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