That date. That time. That place.

Nothing but silence, as I slip through the door…
It brought me back to a date. A time. A place.
Walking through the corridors,
I noticed masterpieces by famous masterminds.
But all of them faded into the distance,
All, but one.

The frame wasn’t fashioned and painted with a pair of delicate hands,
Rather it was a simple and mundane brown oak frame.
It was the picture, and that only.
It was that itself that drew the onlooker…
A simple painting,
But beauty contained in every stroke.

First there was the laughter, the picture of true bliss.
The energy seemed to jump off the page-
His whole body shaking with delight,
With pure pleasure of being exactly where he was,
At exactly that moment.
The artist determined to capture it onto paper.
The energy, it was infectious.
Standing there in the obsolete museum,
It made me want to go back,
To that date. To that time. To that place.

Beauty adorned my sky,
The great artist had hung it up there.
A glimpse now and then,
Before it would disappear.
Scarlet planks soft and low,

Gave platform to a brilliant blue.
White edged with sunrise radiant glow,
Clouds part to let it through.
Lie on the grass of a summer’s day,
Oblivious to the birds song echoing in the distance.
The serene philosophy of the pink rose steadying,
The fragrant delicate petals open full and ready.
Ready to fall, without regret or delusion,
Even after only a day in the sun.
Hear the murmur of the swaying grass,
As is slowly settles upon its slumber.

A whirlpool of thoughts,
Delving back into the pools of dust.
Into the old and weathered pages of time,
The shadowed reflection of a past:
Of a date. Of a time. Of a place.
Then, I remembered.
I knew.
I understood.

Two scenes from two times merged into one memory,
Stretched across the detailed canvas,
The canvas a masterpiece.
Mirroring life.
And back onto the walls of the art gallery,
Hidden behind the shadows of the others.
The story told to no one and everyone.
But as with everything, it too fades with time.
Eventually becoming only a distant memory,
Of that date. Of that time. Of that place.