Picture
It hung lonely on the wall,
One side crooked, and about to fall,
Staring at the empty space,
Which stare it back right in the face.

It pondered on its fate,
Wondering of the empty estate,
The owner gone, leaving its world in shambles,
It left it hanging because it rambles.

Why couldn't it all be in jest,
When there was a death of a guest,
Dust snaked closer and closer to it,
Not caring for its once beautiful physique, one bit.

The Brilliant blues having faded,
The greens once almost jaded,
The flowers wilted,
Its poor life Jilted.