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???