Here’s my first shot at writing poetry since high school. Hope you enjoy the image and words.
For years she walked by the building
on her way to school, years later to work.
Not giving it much attention,
not even a thought or a look.
But then she felt something different
as she passed by early one day.
And though it captured her imagination,
the pace of life kept it at bay.
It was like that as days became weeks,
and the weeks became seasons of change.
Until one day she noticed an old man at the building,
neatly dressed in his suit, long coat and cane.
The sun cast long heavy shadows
across the whitewashed mortar and window frames.
While standing and passionately observing,
“aren’t they lovely” he gently proclaimed.
She paused and finally relented,
freeing her mind, releasing her spirit.
Suddenly, the first frame invited her in,
and the gallery began to exhibit.
That first work fully developed, then others,
all with such meaning, magic and depth.
The old man slowly reached out his hand
as she lastly, joyfully wept.
C.S. Young, Jr.