A beautiful child, just perfect,
Without a single flaw.
In fact I'd say the most beautiful child
That this writer ever saw.
Blond hair, full lips, a dainty nose,
Skin like peaches and cream;
But it's the eyes, the eyes, the eyes
That complete the colour scheme.
And this is where the cynic in me
Rears its ugly head.......
Are those blue eyes Photo-shopped
Or are they real instead?
I've never seen eyes of such a blue;
Is that something I have missed?
Will some reader of my verse
Tell me they do exist?
But there's still the wider question;
The camera can lie.
Has a little digital magic
Been added to each eye?
Views are tweaked and added to.
This is joined to that;
Makes me doubt what I'm looking at.
There was a time when this lovely child
Would have merely been enjoyed,
But now I feel like someone tricked
And it makes me quite annoyed.
By a student at Westfield Park School.
An aboriginal child's mosaic,
Totally modern, not archaic.
I found it when visiting a school.
Childish art is, as a rule,
Colourful and cute and charming,
In its innocence, disarming.
But this, I felt, was a work of art
And seeing it really warmed my heart.
Looks like an amateurish fake to me, not just the eyes. Was it presented as real? Why do these people feel the need to do that kind of thing, when the real world is so wonderful?
At first glance a baby face then, just not the eyes, but the lips look very mature. Suddenly, she looks older
than she might be, wearing a fur hat and a white top - yet why not the power of suggestion here, I wonder, and she is just a lucky kid.
I think that she is a doll. I love your blues and your rhymes.
Happy Blue Monday, Brenda!
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