I could just look at it
Maybe glance at it
Pretend it’s not there
But instead I gaze at it
Frown at it
And wonder why I care

But why is it here? What is it to me?
Just a picture in some old fancy frame?
But there’s something special about it
Something I understand about it
But something I can’t really explain

Inside it I feel emotion, I see meaning
Such feelings in a painting
With a passion intervening

I could just look at it and wonder
What that person was thinking
What he took from himself and put into it
And if his heart was still stinging

His thoughts, his feelings
His wisdom, and his grace
Were traced on this painting, concealing
A memory not to be erased