Life a gallery,
Not a quiet,
Not a fancy,
But do whisper
Mine’s loud…..

All walls covered,
Floor to ceiling…
No fuzzy words,
No velvet ropes,
But frames ready…..

The curator in me
Brushing paints,
Arguing worst,
Rearranging past,
Moving old frames…..

Maching in new,
Some walk through,
Some stay holding on,
Some behind the portrait,
Curling in beauty….

The paint enjoys,
The matching frames..
Gallery stays open,
Hiding the art,
Doesn’t make you?
Less of an artist