Her legacy of beauty hung unchanged
And serious above my cluttered desk.
The shadows sketched unworldly creatures, strange
Anomalies around her. Their grotesque
Demeanor (demonic), wildly dancing
A celebratory rite on the wall.
Dubiety! Perhaps I am dreaming;
And yet I still observe ethereal,
Surreal visions. Perhaps pinch myself
That’s it! I’ll twist a bit of living flesh…
Oh! Ouch! The pain is real as life itself.
The portrait! … Changed! Her likeness diminished
By far. Her comely grace I once beheld
Become a hag where beauty once had dwelled.
The Portrait
