Peter Bollington writes

Lady With A Fan

Why is it I give you so much power,

gazing at me from the wall

where Rembrandt and I put you?

Twice I've taken you down

your eyes too calm and knowing,

I've been uneasy having you always there

seeing what I do.

I don't like your clothes,

too much gold and lace,

you're really nothing more than human;

in a moment

I caught my mouth on yours

our tongues exchanging promises

--you calmly watching--

but now I see your cheeks are young

your chin a little plump.

Your eyes bring me back inside myself,

make me stare away,

avoiding your look for hours.

Your eyes contain no fear,

they smile in love, they ask nothing but truth;

they offer themselves like the ears of trees

knowing and open and unafraid.

Lady with a Fan -- Rembrandt