People stare into the portraits hanging there,
Portraits just glare back, watching, gathering.
They see, hear all, and utter nothing;
Tears shed, plans made, broken
Secrets kept bound on canvas.
Absorbing laughter, thoughts,
Imprinted within brush strokes.
Oils containing dreams, brought here.
Artist’s folly, a person’s musing,

Thoughts trapped in a flick of stroke.

© Nick Strong 2014