Art in a Gallery
Art in a Gallery
It was merely a painting
Another piece in a gallery
It wasn't mine,
I didn't know of its author,
But I couldn't help at stare,
Though it was simple to others.
Because I noticed every brush stroke,
I noticed every tear.
I've seen each mistake,
I've wondered why it's there.
I've drowned in its beauty,
I've smiled at its lines.
It was mere art in a gallery, but it emitted life.
People pass it by each and every day,
Never sparing it a look, or even a glance.
It's not the authors favorite,
It wasn't to many others,
but I couldn't bring myself to care any less.
They don't know how much it means to me,
They couldn't begin to understand.
They don't deserve to even look at it if they can't understand it's past.
I love this painting.