The Portrait Poem by Johann Graham

A room of empty picture frames
is shunned behind a locked door.
Rotting and stained windowpanes
lead the sunlight to the floor.

On the wall a painting hangs,
covered in white sheet.
Not to be seen by any man
and forever nailed to concrete.

Inside her home for decades,
the dead woman walks the hall.
A specter lurking in the shades,
her portrait; the painting on the wall.

So she glares at the white dusty sheet,
pondering the beauty hidden behind.
Oblivious to the cracking concrete,
in search of memories she cannot find.