In the shadows of the galleries
her eyes full of masterpieces
stepping silently
in the spaces built for reflection.
I sit my eyes full of passing strangers
painting the internal canvas
of what is
the portrait of my life.
A soft hand touches my shoulder
but in reality there is only the thought
and I smile wistful
at what was.
The internal clock
craves it's morning cappucino
and sitting in the tiled cafe
amongst the indoor palms
moments pass
in sugared sips
of wonderfully wasted time.
Tommorrow's bags are ready packed
and tickets wait urgently to move me on my way
but for this moment
let me stop
and stare
at the masterpiece of a strangers smile.
12/4/2005
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