Mucha Girl

Painter of the porcelain dame
Clasping the late spring bouquet

Irises caress her rounded chin
As her wandering eyes betray no grin

Luxe off-shoulder gown with lace
Stands out against the greyish haze

A crown of blooms cradles her head
And perhaps, she's a bit coquette

Who was your model, and where did she go?
With a sigh, I suppose, we'll never really know

​

© Doniell Cushman. All Rights Reserved. This poem or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the author
except for the use of brief quotations in a review.