We’ve heard it before:

“Art museums are so boring!

But who’s that artist?

I’m nearly snoring…

There is nothing to see

worth more than a minute,

then on to the next one

which still fails to rivet.”

 

Splashes of color

upon off-white walls

tell stories of the past

and makes your flesh crawl.

“Who would paint stuff like this?”

You ask for the time,

as you wander the gallery

and idly pass by.

 

But then, you stop:

for one artist’s rendition

tapers your eyes

to its obvious perfection.

At last, the paint

comes to life in the art

and what you could not see before

brings a change of heart.

 

The art that you see

holds secrets and skill

for those that dare

to keep their minds filled

with lessons of life,

and love, and war;

so that we never again

open those heinous doors.

 

It has been said before

that history shall repeat itself

yet its presence remains only

in library bookshelves.

We do forget

that art must be preserved

by the bravest of souls,

and I give you my word:

 

I vow to cultivate

all sorts of art

and place them on white walls

as I have done so in my heart,

so perhaps you may enter

my museum one day

wondering, “What’s this?”

and till closing time, stay.