THAT PICTURE

The picture on our parlor wall Is really not my taste at all. The thing was chosen by my wife; I hung it for a quiet life. She tells me it’s the modern trend, A concept I can’t comprehend. A picture, to appeal to me, Should look like what it’s meant to be. Just what this artist had in mind, Well I don’t mean to be unkind But what it is I have no clue And, if you saw it, nor would you. Lots of swirls and lots of slashes And a load of random splashes. But I’m afraid it’s here to stay. It doesn’t matter what I say. Regardless of the charm it lacks, At least it hides those plaster cracks.