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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
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.
The unique works displayed on the pages herein are © 1997-2013 Nicholas Emeigh. Use is restricted.
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