To get new ideas, to make a fresh start,
I went down to the museum of art.
The shiny floors, the hightened ceiling,
Gave me a serene, reflective feeling.
St. John, St. Peter, Madonna and child,
Expressions so humble, meek and mild,
Their faces forever in paintings are cast,
Peer out through windows from ages past.
King George, King Henry, in marbled bust,
Through the centuries are collecting dust.
A life-sized nude hangs on the wall,
Eternally posed to show us her all.
Her fair white skin, her soft feminine curves
Makes men stare, revs up their nerves.
And for Aphrodite she's a dead ringer,
In mind's eye I'm sure she will linger.