The Happy Prisoner

He sat in a tower
A blank pad
With a pen in hand
An empty room
With a window into blue.

There was nothing.
Even the sun which shone
It did not reach his corner
And the smell of the wind in the wheat
It passed the tower by
While the river flowed around foundation stones
He sat in silence while silent walls stared.

But then,
A sound of wings
White feathers
A dove that flew and gently landed
Perched upon the window sill,
Turned her head and cooed.

The sky was still a wide expanse
The room was empty like before
And the wind still circled round
But as he sat
He smiled
He bent over writing
The sound of pen on paper.

The man he wrote
Looked and listened,
The dove was there

Perched upon the window sill,
Turned her head and cooed.

Only I saw

Some say there is only one smile

A smile Leonardo painted.

Mona Lisa, she gives a coy look 

A twitchy eyebrow look

With a curling lip.

And they rave

Critics marvel 

Students study it

Artists recreate.

But

I have been to France

I have seen her

And I was not impressed.

In a dark dank room,

Behind prison glass

An ugly woman gave a bland look.

I was disappointed

And that afternoon

I wandered the Louvre depressed.

Years after

Among the flowers of a busy scene

The constant motion

A commotion of smiling faces

Winks and constant noise

There was a smile I saw

Only I saw

I stood there in silence

As if a single flower had pushed through snow

The smile was a wanton moment

People honked and the distractions clamored

But I held that smile in my mind

Captured it like a photograph 

Developed it in my heart.

And I saw the smile Leonardo should have painted

If he had been standing where I stood

But he was not so singularly blessed.

So I will keep it.

It is mine

More sacred than a painting

And not bound by myopic glass.

It shines in quiet shyness

The vulnerable and beautiful smile  

Enveloped by angelic wings

Embraced by a seraph's splendor

Like a fire in his chest.

My invincible heart.