Poor Mona Lisa

Mona Lisa’s smile is hardly
That of sanguine disposition.
A timeless beauty solus
That we stare at years on end
In hopes to replevin the timeless youth
Strewn across that star tinged face.

Young woman of the canvas,
Please accept my apologizes
For I know not what it feels
Like to be judged – no end – for centuries.
But I do know the uneasy nerves
That present at man’s glance.

At least I have the chance
To respond by coy, uncomfortable blush.
But you, poor Mona Lisa,
You are forever confined
To a peculiar grin of shyness
And connection, eyes to eyes.


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