A gallery with no guards,
open to anyone passing by.
With brightly painted walls
and locked metal doors.
A comfortable and relaxing space
that lifts the mood.
With content visitors leaving
to return again when dull.
Only a few catch the slight stench
from the locked doors.
A dead and dark history hidden
deep within the glamour.
The door keys used by none,
for they love the gallery more.
As days passed,
the visitors lessened one at a time.
The smell kept worsening
until it overpowered it’s grace.
Metamorphosing to a cemetery
cursed by living memories.
Gopika Pramod
A comparison of a gallery to the human heart and how the visitors use the space for its elegance.
A Soliloquy 
Thankyou so much! Really appreciate it. Love your work too 😊😊
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I’m actually enjoying your poetry and that says something because I tend to read lots on wordpress. Thanks for following me recently. I’m glad to meet you, new friend! 💕😊
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Thankyou so much 😊😊
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wow! lovely
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