Aflush every nook, by his brush fertile
Pompeii, Paolo’s canvas, beholden to his guile
What we discern beauty, his docile muse
Commons and nobles smitten, to his genius brews

Unrivaled his flair, but Aldo, once his apprentice
His girl, Paola’s love, one wily wizard in artifice
Had he chiseled all dazzling damsels on canvas?
Aah! But Paola, Pompeii’s most alluring lass

Aldo reveled the prospect of routing Paolo’s clout
“I limn Paola’s bare splendor, Paolo’s rout, no doubt”
A daughter and a darling, Paola’s heart mortified
Bare herself for love, or redeem father’s pride

Paolo had an inkling, of Aldo’s sly ploy
Beckoned Paola, said “Dear, don’t fall to Aldo’s decoy!
May I etch you unclad, on this blissful shroud?
Let you be my cherished muse, do your father proud”

How stricken sat Paola, bare to the bone
As papa paints his daughter, a soul turned to stone
She mused, “Men are but men, bent to the core
Papa wins or Aldo, why I the pawn, who bore?”

Chef-d’oeuvre ready, the best of best bequest
Paolo smirked at Aldo, “Seems you, fell from the crest!”
As king ogled Paola, “You are the glory, eternities await”
Retorted she dewy-eyed, “Alas, me nothing, just a bait”

How magnifies a château wall, Paola’s starkness
Behold a woman’s grandeur, in stealthy duress
It may last a thousand years and so shall the legacy
What a maid lost to her father and love, more than a heresy

© 2015 Vikas Chandra