Some old Paintings speak to you, creating emotions as well as questions with no answers.
| The Last Illusion
It was Just an old portrait to most,
Yet it had been hung with loving care.
Yellowed and brittle with age.
Another memory erased by time, her name unknown.
Alabaster skin paled against ruby red lips.
Her eyes bright like blue flames on a turbulent Sea,
Old lace adorned a black velvet dress.
A Cameo hugged tightly to her delicate neck.
Her fragile smile filled with secrets gone long ago.
A stray curl of Raven hair fell softly against the cheek.
The artist had blessed her with immortal beauty,
The moment left behind, frozen for eternity.
It was the last illusion of inexperienced youth.
My need to know more of her was intensely passionate,
I wondered where she lay after death claimed her.
I would never know the realities of her life……still,
I would forever carry with me the memory of her face,
Unknown, bittersweet and surely loved.