I look at her mesmerized by the way he painted her
“Woman with a parasol” my favorite Monet
The way she haunts me upon examination of her stare
She is stunning in simplicity, white cloudy wisps
Placed delicately around her face and hair
She is at peace yet delicately aggravated
Her parasol so exquisitely placed
As if it were a shield against all that is wicked
She is so profoundly magnetic
I can remember the exact moment I first saw the painting
How long it took to break the grip of her gaze
In order to study the remainder of the piece
The field grasses painted to suggest a mild breeze
Her small boy standing aside her
But at the most finite spatial distance to
Leave the viewer in constant thought contemplation  
The twists and wrinkles in her dress that promote movement
Each nuance in concert with subtle direction
Back to her captivating esoteric stare