Amongst the smudges I see a hidden face
Round in shape and trying to peak through
A story to tell but was once erased

Conclusions about a face that someone else drew
Secrets inside but tucked deep away
A story of time that was misconstrued

The solemn lips parted as to say
If only you'd ask you'd be surprised what you could learn
A pity the lips were not molded from clay

To withstand time making this story easy to discern
All ambiguity removed nothing left to gauge
But now this phantom creature is left to yearn

Silently dying to pour her story upon the page
But content with waiting to be inquired
Forever subjected to be in this cage

A beautiful specimen destined to be admired
Until the next becomes inspired