Lisbeth stands watching The artist as he prepares To sketch. Her elder sisters Stand in shadows whispering. Her younger sister plays With her doll on the floor. Their father said to do as The artist instructed and Don’t misbehave or be rude. The artist stares hard his Dark eyes searching their Every move and expression And body gesture. The elder Girls mutter in shadows Their hands over their mouths Their blue eyes like shallow Pools. Ready? The artist Asks putting charcoal to Paper his fingers blackening. Lisbeth says just as we are? The artist nods. His grim Features express do not disturb. The youngest sister plays Ignoring the artist her eyes set On the game at hand. The girls In shadow turn their profiles Set to mystery their hands on Their abdomens like guardians Of virtue. Lisbeth wonders as She watches the artist’s stiff Moustache and beard the slow Movement of his mouth as he Mouths words and stares hard. The last artist employed some Year before younger and less Brutal in expression and manner Had drawn them each in private Rooms and set them down on couch Or bed and kept their images inside His head. He was dismissed and the Drawings destroyed and nothing said. Lisbeth had thought it just a game Something done as lover might in Private corners or lonely spots on Quiet nights. The artist sketches. His blackened fingers move and Made their mark. Their images Captured. The scene set. One sister In the shadows yawns the other Stares in still contempt. Lisbeth Poses as young girls do. Nothing To show of interest and nothing Hid no secret self no other you. That’s it the artist says we’ll begin The painting another day maybe Next week if all is well. The girls In shadow look away and resume Their secret games. Lisbeth studies The artist’s blackened fingers as He rolls the charcoal sketch and Puts away. He gazes at her standing By herself a glimpse of smile and Glimmer in her eyes like small fires. He closes the tired lids of eyes And smoulders down his old desires.