In halls of Louvre, where whispers roam, A canvas holds a smile of stone. Mona Lisa, with eyes that gleam, A secret held, a whispered dream.

Her lips, a curve both wise and sly, A hint of smirk, a knowing eye. The landscape fades, a hazy blur, Lost in the depths we can't explore.

Is it a smile of joy, or pain? A hidden love, a heart's campaign? Theories swirl, like smoke in air, But Mona Lisa doesn't care.

She sits serene, a timeless soul, Witness to stories yet untold. Across the centuries, she's seen, The rise and fall of what has been.

Da Vinci's brushstrokes, light and fine, Captured a spirit, half divine. A timeless muse, forever young, The Mona Lisa's smile, a song unsung.