Picture bought in a Noumea, New Caledonia
shop that prompted the following poem.

 

The Little Harlot

 

Strange little girl with wistful smile,
You look so innocent and young,
Yet appearances lie, do they not?

What illusions of love
Do you harbor in your heart?
And for how many coins
Have you traded love
For practicality?

Even though we shall never meet
I will keep this picture of you
And as I grow old, so shalt thou,
And fifty years from now
I will say hello to you again.