Searching for the one image
which will reconcile my doubts -
turns me from the window
and the soft, decided pout
of bad weather rainclouds -
my static limbs are loud
against the kind voice which calls
me to walk these bright lit halls
and peruse without care
avenues of art - my heart
will no doubt be lifted by the
wet looking paint and those images
sought will appear, delicate and faint.
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