The woman walked through the gallery
Admiring the art that she did see.
When suddenly she stopped in shock
And paused her afternoon art walk.
For hanging there upon the wall
A portrait that was seen by all,
Enclosed in an ornate silver frame
A picture of immense acclaim.
She pursed her lips and viewed the scene
Of a nude girl who seemed to preen.
As she bent over, let’s be frank,
She had a firm, round ass to spank.
And wearing only high black boots
That accentuated firm, toned glutes,
She waited patiently for him
To strike her upturned ass again.
The elder woman gave a chuckle
Chewing on her ungloved knuckle
Staring at the painting fraught
With sexuality not forgot.
She caught my eye and chuckled more
I thought her knuckle must be sore
And I decided I must ask
What she found shocking, yet a gas.
“The painting doesn’t shock per se,”
She told me in her quiet way.
“What shocked me was I saw it here.
I haven’t seen it in many a year.”
Confusion covered up my face,
She touched my hand and closed the space.
“You see,” she said, with a bit of glee,
“That woman in the painting’s me.”
I couldn’t quite hide my surprise,
And looking deep into my eyes
She nodded, blushed, and said “It’s true,
I wonder if you wished it you.”
And all that I could do was nod,
And smile at her, as I was awed.
I didn’t have much more to say,
So I stepped back and walked away.
I left her lost in reverie
Reliving a good memory.
Her spirit lifted for the day,
And I hoped it would stay that way.