Mona Lisa
Mona Lisa - the mysterious beauty.
I smelt the fresh grass diffusing through the air.
My eyes opened a little and the sunlight filtered through.
I looked around my small room and saw my art utensils.
My prized brush, my palette, my blank canvas’. On a stand.
In the centre of my room stood Mona Lisa. Oh she looked so
Life like. Beauty oozing from her cheeks and laughter lurking in
Her subtle smile.
Who could find flaws in such an unpredictable beauty. Her long straight hair kissed her almost bare shoulders and her calm hands floated on her arms. I recalled the night before when my painters hands were working away struggling to compile this master piece. She didn’t complain,
Or sigh or even look bored. Her beauty extended to her inner core. Her eyes were translucent
with a teasing joy. My Mona Lisa, darling. How could God have crafted such a fine thing?
Yet we are all made by him, but she ranks highly favoured amongst creations.
My eyes move over to the window and I see her there, sitting on a bench facing away from me.
I run down the steps and fling the doors open. I shout disrupting the gentle peace.
“Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa” I scream the woman refuses to turn, I walk round to see her face.
It is not her. She has mysteriously disappeared. I smile at my open window. I have her memory.
Its alive in the picture.
Mona Lisa smile.
I smelt the fresh grass diffusing through the air.
My eyes opened a little and the sunlight filtered through.
I looked around my small room and saw my art utensils.
My prized brush, my palette, my blank canvas’. On a stand.
In the centre of my room stood Mona Lisa. Oh she looked so
Life like. Beauty oozing from her cheeks and laughter lurking in
Her subtle smile.
Who could find flaws in such an unpredictable beauty. Her long straight hair kissed her almost bare shoulders and her calm hands floated on her arms. I recalled the night before when my painters hands were working away struggling to compile this master piece. She didn’t complain,
with a teasing joy. My Mona Lisa, darling. How could God have crafted such a fine thing?
Yet we are all made by him, but she ranks highly favoured amongst creations.
My eyes move over to the window and I see her there, sitting on a bench facing away from me.
I run down the steps and fling the doors open. I shout disrupting the gentle peace.
“Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa” I scream the woman refuses to turn, I walk round to see her face.
It is not her. She has mysteriously disappeared. I smile at my open window. I have her memory.
Its alive in the picture.
Mona Lisa smile.
