Mona Lisa
Linda Brown
From
her place above the mantle
she watches her son grow tall,
her daughter
develop breasts.
A handsome husband weeps
openly and her eyes follow him
around the room. Days turn
into years while she
listens to sunset
conversations
and Chopin served with tea.
Behind her smile, a list
of
trips she meant to take
and books she left unread,
of lips she wished
she’d kissed
and words she didn’t say.
She views the world as
one half
pleasure, one
half pain, and feels as flat
as an artist’s canvas.
On
days when the windows
are open, regret
blows through her,
like a
season.
Linda Brown has been a songwriter in Nashville and a House Manager for the Barter Theatre, the State Theatre of Virginia. Her poetry has appeared in Wind, Appalachian Heritage, The Sow’s Ear Poetry Review, Parting Gifts, Creative Woman, Insurgent Metaphor, Parnassus and several anthologies.