by Paul Glenn

Created on: July 14, 2008

Gallery

She is, or so it seems,
the only painting this gallery holds...
for which the impressionable boy
sits in wonder over where the first strokes were laid
and colors bound
Seeking, searching...from every corner of frame
to where all colors find their way to the center of it all...
and still this mystery will not fall,
nor be made to land within the reason of his mind
And time climbs high into the sky
only to climb slowly into bed and drift asleep
And still his mind wanders and wonders and fascinates
over all that is known...or can be known
The gallery...alone in the night,
as she hangs (a pretty painting) bathed in the fawning light
and the company of his thoughts

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