Photo Gallery

          A shot of faces whipping a ball, leaning the log

          Tarnished ones, others brown, blurred as fog

          Lined the stair walls, they on table top

          Some are ancient, the others recent and mine are cropped;

          Smeared faces, lavished gowns,pretty frocks I look at them

          Tiara heads, sequined coats, layered hem

          Hanging bulbs, pretty muses and gallant consorts

          Upward, upstairs did I climb, staring on all the part;

          I gasped; wondering now what must’ve gone odd with me?

          Have I been dreaming, believed it happened, it can’t be!

          But, oh! so clear, stared I at them all ‘round me

          Framed shots had transformed my room into a gallery.




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