Near an old house

The painter told me,
“Sometimes shadows don’t fit right,
so I paint them in.”

We walked down near the house
where an old woman sat like a lion
in her cave. “This place,” he said,
“needed shadows I remember,” and he
pointed to each corner the shadows
would not collect right. “I’d show you,
but it’s sold.”

“The house?” I asked.

“No…the painting.”