She sits there
On a bench in front of
Pictures upon pictures
Of different vibrant colors, shapes and subjects
Out of the everyone in sight she’s the only one sitting
As the others move on
With quick glances
Or nods
Or charming remarks to the pictures
They turn and say “next”

She has no choice but to follow
Because she feels obligated
To journey the gallery
She sees others sitting
Admiring the little details expertly placed
Disappointed she can’t join them

She would have stopped and sat down
But what stopped her was the banter passed around
As people walked past her
Mocking the others that sat in silence
Torn, she continued to walk
With the moving crowd
Glancing at each empty seat she passed
Yearning to sit
And admire a painting or two

Repression became harder to swallow
She wanted to resist the crowd
And enjoy the atmosphere of each piece
Examining the work of others
Water colors, oil on canvas, acrylic on canvas, graphite
Worked by geniuses
Who spent their lives on the bench
Recreating what they’ve examined

If only the crowd wasn’t moving so fast
If only the taunting comments came to a halt
If only she could
Admire the paintings
In each room
Each exhibition
Each artist

And although the little details that were displayed
Went unnoticed by the moving crowd
The one's who stay
caught eye of it
Studying it and feeding their mind with the
Information in front of them
She wanted to be one of those people
Who could sit on the bench all day
And get whisked away