by Barry Williams

Created on: January 07, 2011

Of her beauty she was quite aware

For many a person would pause and stare

She posed for an artist and as he held his brush

He took his time like he was in no great rush

Each day she came and in silence sat

While the artist waved his paint board this way and that

She expected a masterpiece was in the making

She never complained about the time it was taking

Each day passed as the artist's love grew fonder

Never once did she ponder

Why he would stand there some days seeming in a daze

Until she turned and met his gaze

She was so young and he was so old

He never once let his love unfold

He feared that  she would be revulsed

And any moves by him would be repulsed

One day she came to the studio to find him dead

Alone passed away while still in bed

She went to his easel and could only stare

At the blank canvas that awaited her there

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