Poem: The Painting

wings open, majestic;
scary, but filled with beauty;
it is above everything else.
it watches, it guards, perhaps it even loves.
white and blue, it is proud.

red and black, she is beautiful.
beneath the angel, the winged creature,
beneath it, on the right side.
a dark and wonderful beauty,
elegant in her dress.

on her left is another one.
so blurry I cannot trace her back.

the painting has faded in my memory.
two pieces remain:
a stained one, one half lost.

This poem was written in French on July 22nd, 2007, under the title “Le tableau”. It is based on a dream I had.

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