The walls are bare

The walls are bare

Paintings remain

In well travelled boxes

Out of sight

When they should be hung

Too many for the room

A decision in need of taking

Each one too precious

To ignore

So none are chosen

There is sadness

In the leaving

All have a story to tell

About their beginning

The truth of meaning

Not always explicitly seen

Hidden within texture

Enlivened by technique

More than artwork

A life story

In oil and acrylic

A powerful exposition

Of life and love

There is no escaping

The sense of impermanence

A sorry stack

Of cardboard boxes

Leant up against a wall

The imposition

Of their confinement

Emphasising the beauty

Of their rendition

With every secret

Furtive glimpse

They must be shown

Admired

Take their place

Once again

Appraised as of more than

Monetary value

Their worth

Is in the definition

They will give

To the fragility

Of life

The uncertainty of future