Over my bed at home there are two paintings,
Both of churches in the old country.
One sits on a bluff, guarded by a wall
It has an onion top and one belfry.
Obviously Orthodox, maybe monastic.
The subject tugs at me, but is no expert's pick
For it is rudely done. In a hurry?
For sale in new Russia, after the fall?
The other is all whimsy and fun,
Lovers kissing by the Seine.
Pont de Neuf stands guard nearby,
With Notre Dame back by the sky.
I love them both; they stir my mind,
Framed dreaming of a different time.