The small child that hangs on the wall
Seems to bear no resemblance to me.
Who was that child?
Confident, loved? I don't see that.
Hurt, lost, abandoned?
With time, perception altered.
Or is this the overlayed,
Imprint on that image,
With the benefit of hindsight?
She sits, with a still smile
fixed forever on her small face.
The delicate tints of the colourist,
Interpreting the given details.
The accoutrements fake,
Added, to try to bring that smile.
This portrait, hung on the wall.
For most of my life, a constant.
I still look upon that smiling face,
And know the false picture
11 months ago