The Little Girl At The Art Museum

Poem By L.W. Smith

Clinging to her mothers hand
As quiet as she can be
A multicolored wonderland
“Mother, may we please? ”

Her mother nods and leads the way
To a work with a plastic frame
A painting of two puppies at play
Enchanting yet mundane

The girl points and smiles wide
She jumps and squeals and begs
The mother grins and swells in pride
While the child claws her legs

“Mommy, the others could only pray
To have a picture so fine
Think of their faces, when over to play
Wishing it their own, but it’ll be mine.”

Mommy scolds, “You shall not flaunt
You’ve been taught better my love”
“But look at it, why shouldn’t I taunt? ”
“Fine, but first, let us buy the dove! ”

Comments about The Little Girl At The Art Museum

lovely poem, smith. yes, never flaunt.

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Descending down the hill I see
The cities lights strategically
Placed about the road below
The warm embrace I’ve come to know

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Segments of a million smiles
Set sail towards the northern star
Ascending through barren limbs
And onward to the heavens

Thoughts After Running Out Of Gas

There’s a certain eeriness before light
Birthed from the serenity of lonely hearts

She’s in her kitchen right now


Such a horrid thought appeared this eve
Whilst the lonesome raven perched in the tree
And his ghastly eyes burned hot upon me
I shiver and think “it cannot be”


Into the brisk of autumn night
While luggage spewed and hands clasped tight
Your eyes shown of fluorescent light
We ran to Hollywood