There was something about her,
But I didn’t know what.
I observed everything about her.
Her skin glowed and her back straight.
I wanted more.
I knew everything about her,
Her hair fell flat and her nose was thin.
Perfect in every way.
And yet, there was something wrong.
Her smile was soft, sweet almost,
But her eyes cut through my soul.
She sat so patiently, giving nothing away.
The world was moving on without her,
Yet here she stayed.
There was something about her,
And it left me wondering so much more.
"Mona Lisa Dig Unearths Tombs, Crypt." Adelaide Now. The Advertiser. Web. 1 Sept. 2015
I really like how you wrote the poem from the point of view of the artist rather than the viewer. I feel like it gave a new interesting insight to the painting that we might've looked over before because it's such a famous painting that we've seen so many times.
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