It’s the smile not the laugh
As every Mona Lisa knows
Smiling from frame to frame in a photocopy world
Disappearing into middle distance
Fading into the past
Memories are the thumbprints on the canvas
The truthful lies we tell ourselves,
when no one is listening
So at last we despise what we have become.
The rain reflects the sadness of the day
Collected with sorrow in the puddles of missed opportunity.