Pages into dreams – as their stand painted in an enigma
of beauty; being the pencil drawn to you, La Gioconda
"The joyous woman"
As they call your smile a masterpiece; man tries to
piece together every fibre of what makes it so –
“Female power”
Still, I guess parts of your story hangs in the frame of
being an unfinished work – where parts of your soul
aren’t the parts that are fully whole. But the memory
of you holds a place in history.
Of where we met; under the tears of dripping paint,
as I’d share the dreams, I traced out on my notepad’s
pages – staring an hour’s end, knowing that even as
long as I could stare at your smile, we never actually
met.
Still, I have the picture of your smile, to retrace all
the memories in my head – oh the beauty of the
Mona Lisa smile; how it does in my head.
Mar 29, 2025
Mar 29, 2025 at 4:09 PM UTC
Pages into dreams – as their stand painted in an enigma
of beauty; being the pencil drawn to you, La Gioconda
"The joyous woman"
As they call your smile a masterpiece; man tries to
piece together every fibre of what makes it so –
“Female power”
Still, I guess parts of your story hangs in the frame of
being an unfinished work – where parts of your soul
aren’t the parts that are fully whole. But the memory
of you holds a place in history.
Of where we met; under the tears of dripping paint,
as I’d share the dreams, I traced out on my notepad’s
pages – staring an hour’s end, knowing that even as
long as I could stare at your smile, we never actually
met.
Still, I have the picture of your smile, to retrace all
the memories in my head – oh the beauty of the
Mona Lisa smile; how it does in my head.
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