Down the empty and endless hallways
of the Metropolitan Museum of Art,
children wander and hop
from each gallery,
looking for something to please them.
They had no parents,
no guardians to boss them around
and tell them what to do.
The children were the very picture
of innocence and rebellion.
All of them came from various backgrounds:
many from dysfunctional families,
some from overprotective people,
a little from wealth,
and others from poverty.
But the children all gathered for the same reason:
to seek happiness and shelter
from the outside world's troubles and worries.
Running from masterpiece to masterpiece,
they explored the staircases
and nooks and crannies of the building,
playing games and laughing.
They quickly became friends
and told stories of heroes and villains
on adventures and challenges they faced.
Some kids ran off to the sculptures to laugh at the bare naked statues.
Others pulled and tugged on tapestries, old clothing, and the sheets of beds.
Children poured into the historic exhibits of Africa and Europe.
A few even went outside and splashed among the fountains.
They are young ghosts,
who've immersed themselves in this place
as an output from the stress and anger of the harsh reality.
A myth says:
"If you stand quietly near the dark corners of the museum,
you'll hear laughter, footsteps, and singing of children
as they lose themselves in euphoria."
Can you hear them?
YOU ARE READING
Pallete
Poetrypoems (possibly stories) relating to art, which can range from painting to pottery to drawing and much more purpose is to evoke emotion i hope you enjoy reading it! feel free to comment suggestions, tips, or stories you want to hear about PLEASE NOT...
