Divine Monica

As a french artist I fell in love with painting live models

One came to mind the other day as I took my brush into my hand

I fell in love with the most beautiful model her name was Monica

So perfect in every way, every curve with silken satin skin so smooth

You wanted to touch her with your eyes when she posed in the nude

My heart would pound so hard I felt as though all the city could hear it

Her breasts were divine and her lips full with a natural gloss of honey

You wanted to melt into her long charmed arms and her delicate fingers

So long and thin and elegant, her hair was golden with rays of sunshine

Through and through, her hips and calves were curved and shaped exact

Inch by inch you could shimmer with delite as I did when I shaped her onto canvas

This canvas and portrait of my dearest most loved Monica I look upon the wall

Merely paint and frame and only her name live with me now in my lust of gloom

As she took her own life and fell into the river over the bridge and never found

Though my heart still aches to embrace her and to paint her eyes one more time

For my love and my passion stay with her for the canvas will never die

Monica, oh divine Monica how I cry