Perched on an unassuming wall

armed with her sinister smile

She awaits the times gone by

with trembling tenacity

She sits pretty

My Mona Lisa’s shadow

***

Housed in a land

undeserving of her ravenous beauty

I wonder what she thinks

of the vanity of this city

I wonder if she laughs

at their empty sorrows

***

Does she look up

at the mountain of martyrs

or at their Gods’

lost virtues

Does she pretend to be kind

to those who dwell in its grime?

***

Or is she mocking the hypocrisy

of the fake bourgeois nights

The city reeks of guilt

of its riches and grandeur

and yet she beams with pride

as the world’s wonder’s sparkles during dark times

***

Like everything around us

she is pretty only to her eyes

and those who fought and won

to protect that sensual smile

must often wonder if the lives lost

were worth her while

***

If beauty is only skin deep

hers is as thick as his canvas

she’s the world’s biggest mystery

and its greatest surrender

I wonder when he painted

was he in love with her smile

***

Did he dream of her home

so tainted and beautiful?

Or is it just time that has made

the Mona Lisa smile so wistful???