Above the fireplace on a darkened wall
Hung a picture, oldest of all
A house amidst a green meadow
Now just a colorful shadow
A melancholy lass sitting on a rock
Watching the sky with an ironical mock
Whenever into her eyes I see
I find a quest for peace to be
Her tresses flowing around a bun
A frock torn but worn with dignity
Reminds me of an era of royalty
Wherein sorrow may have befallen her
Brave, her face is clear
Seeping strength pours into me
Whenever towards the picture I see
The lass a silent inspiration
For all my toil, my perspiration
The faded picture on a blackened wall
Is my favorite treasure of all