In the Gallery

I come each day to gaze upon your face
It is so fair, so gentle, so full of grace.
Your smile, your gesture cannot be denied.
The artist’s touch has made you come alive.
As if to speak those quiet lips are curved
And fantasy for me supplies the word.

I wonder if your artist knew
That you and I would have this rendezvous.

The fourth in a series of my great-grandma’s poems.

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