Museum Echo

As a child museums were a part of my life.

I bear silence, but I hear footsteps 

The smells and the sights are so, so sharp.

“Ouch!” 

My mother accidentally squeezed my hand too tight.

But I hadn’t called out

So who did?

I looked about.

The smile on my face fixed upon

a painting displayed in a golden frame.

of a Girl holding a huggable Corgi in her arms

gazing into the further distance

She was resting on the edge of a cliff.

Looking into red skies and clouds

Swinging her legs back and forth 

She wore a malevolent grin

Under my breath, I murmured.

“Is that dog going to get thrown?”

“And why are the clouds shaped like animals’ faces?”

“What’s this painting trying to say?”

I stapled my eyes onto the Corgi

He pinned his heart into me 

My mother then said,

“Sweetheart, its late, let's go home.” 

As she dragged me out, 

I stole the image of that dog with me.

Tucked it under my arms as an image

Until my mother gave in 

&

Three weeks later

 a Corgi named Katherine,

 fell into my possession

The essence of the magic of childhood!