The GalleryI dreamed
of him again...
We
were at the end,
in a gallery of treasures.
Along every wall were podiums
of all different heights holding
great silver urns and bowls
of all different sizes and shapes
smooth surfaces polished
reflecting ornate details
rims and handles
and flourishes
And he turned to me
spoke gently
And we walked together
slowly through the gallery...
Speaking of what we knew-
what we value
treasure
as we made our way
towards the farthest wall
with wide open doors
revealing the hint
of an exquisite garden beyond.
poem & photo copyright ©2011 Anne Selden Annab
