MONA LISA
Hi, it’s not important that you know my name
I
am just another mortal gracing this earth
Rather
I was, till yesterday came
When
he happened to perchance upon my girth.
I
had my values defined
Simple
principles
I
knew where to draw the line
Alas,
I knew not he was a painter, of emotions.
I
sat with him a little while
And
spoke of things that were
I
even smiled and laughed out loud
For
my happiness existed here.
Here
where I lived and happened to be
My
home, my heritage, my family
My
daily life as mother and wife
A
living rarely known to strife.
I
chatted on about my years
When
I was still a girl in pigtails
I
told him too about those years
When
I grew up to sipping cocktails.
I
spoke about my career and life
How
they spanned these many years
My
solitude and all those dears
Who
stood with me my fragile years.
I
spoke about my wedding ring
Even
about the kitchen sink
For
he made me feel free
Like
a bird perched upon the tallest tree.
I
soared
I
roared
I
laughed until I cried
My
being thus open wide.
That’s
when he smiled
And
kissed me with his eyes
Touched
my past
And
satiated those mute cries
His
words like magic, they brushed me
Colours
unseen yet wholly felt
And
they wove an alluring tapestry
Akin
to wax did I now melt.
No
smoke, nothing burnt
Save
my present
And
in that revealing darkness I learnt
How
as a woman was I unspent.
He
coloured dreams
Which
I knew not existed
He
stressed they were real
And
his thoughts persisted.
They
painted upon me the red of desire
The
blue of ice and crimson of fire
The
green of sapphire
Wafting
colours from an ethereal lyre.
There
were mellow pastel shades too
Of
light serenity
Of
quiet tranquility
And
cherished longing.
He
painted upon the canvas within
And
for an easel he used my mind
His
thoughts hugged whatever therein
That
by selfish humanity had been left behind.
His
feelings like a waterfall
Coursed
my very blood
The
longing mating call
Did
now my emotions flood.
His
breath upon my face
Was
like an uplifting rush
His
fingers at my lace
Were
but a welcome flush.
My
soul free
And
spirits singing
My
lips praying
And
soft chimes ringing.
Beckoning
to me
To
break all fetters free
Live
that which I am
Not
for Tom, Harry or Sam.
And
I looked him in the eye
And
tears of separation did I see
For
love is but a myth, is no reason why
I could not forever his Mona Lisa be.
~Vikram C~
