Museum

draft  free-verse  poetry  ]

While you’re young visit the museum,
for it is free! Huzzah! Run around,
Hours turn into minutes as you peer
you stare effortlessly into the Vermeer,
ignoring the text on the side. This is art.

When you get older, your knees will
have trouble going up the stairs. But now?
Use an elevator. Even your body cannot betray
the lingering impression of the Monet
on the train ride home. You’re smiling.

But when you get to the station,
Look around and you’ll see the woman
She’s holding a parasol. On the way home,
you stare through a window. He’s reading
a letter. You step on a snake,
and snow begins to fall down.

It’s always free.