Auto-pret*

 

 

 

 

I sit to paint a picture,

Of me, in my element,

Long gaping at the canvas,

No ideas seem to cement.

 

A female, I am, I conclude,

Do I owe me any props?

Is there the ideal mix,

Of the gains and the flops?

 

Successful, I decide to add,

Generous all the way,

Intangibles, I list many,

But, how do I portray?

 

A briefcase, do I depict

Or money illustrate?

Kids and husband in tow,

Joy, does it demonstrate?

 

While I ponder over these,

The blankness stares back,

In the nothingness, I settle

I am an unfinished abstract.

 

*A play on introspect

 

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