The Polymath

I photoshop her hair red
For this was what she
Was always meant to be
Copper-coloured hair
Framing an alabaster face
A picture trapped in a frame

'She's a beauty,'they say
A picture that was torn
Down from the gallery wall
By one long gone bitter beau
And they all move in to protect her
One Angel on either side.
they grasp her hand
And lead her away

And, suddenly she is flying
Out of my screen.