As I Scribbled on the Floor

I sat folded on the floor
Of the pristine lady's room
Sketching cherubs on her bed
With ink a mere cartoon

Yet the Frau surprised me
Not the gentle 'ridden flower
But a matron solid kids in tow
To see the object of my wonder

But she was not the object of my wonder
Many come to worship the soft covers
Plump pillows propped on pillows
Fascination for those without

Many wander by me as I sat upon the floor
Made no remark of note and mutter
Exclaiming sometimes wonder
And of them I remember little

This kind thick-waisted Frau
Guide of children raising up new minds
Exclaimed in glowing wonder
Nothing of the bed of beauty

And it deserved her wonder
Upon the twisted tortured form
Lay Angels in their choruses
Pink and full-fleshed forms

Playing and cavorting to bring a gentle smile
Upon the porcelain lady's face
As she lay trapped alone
Bawdry to captivate the captured mind

Yet the good wife innocent of that
Pulled her children near her
Though her whisper carried to my ear
Exclaimed “an artist”, gasped in joy

Undeserved 'shadowed by that room
This great-simple woman, unused to scribblers
Dabblers and frauds mistook me for an artist
As I scribbled on the floor