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Busy Museum
I'm looking out from the windows
of an elegant museum, and boy, is it busy in here. There are stories in these walls, memoirs, memories, and some art. Coffee stains on everything, but since they switched to serving tea, tea stains. There are a few good cries stored in the walls, but they don't talk about that, they direct you to the stained glass mouths with translucent rainbow teeth formed into pictures of good times, sometimes manic, but that's okay. The information here is overwhelming, and it's hard to make sense of it all, but you won't find better stories in the best of libraries. Memories are art, and the memoirs are the descriptive cards underneath. Everyone is welcome here, but few will find it, because few people actually open their eyes. They stand on the steps, but they can't see the door. © 2014 Nicholas Emeigh |
Read by the Author
COMING
SOON |
SoundCloud Reading
Part of the group "Record-A-Poem," and part of the Playlist "The Poetry of Nicholas Emeigh" which includes 40+ other poems.
Notes: This poem was written on Tuesday, February 4, 2014. It's about everything that's in my head making up an awesome museum that's incredibly busy, but no one can find it.
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