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: 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
I see. her comely grace I once beheld
Become a hag where beauty once had dwelled.
poem by Albert Ahearn
Added by Poetry Lover
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