Silence of contemplation lost
Visuals inspiring yet impassionate
Leaving pretentious moue
No room left with space
No artwork without million eyes
Should be expected as so
Yet grating all the same
For without reflection
The gallery is merely streets
With colors and shapes irrelevant
To purposes of which one traverses them
Sudden muted trumpets croon
Regarding a funny valentine
Investigation leads down the hall
To an exhibit of a rose cavern
There inside lies a mirror
In the mirror a man stands
He’s more straight than limp though
But nonetheless strange in form
His beard matching dark forests
His shirts plaid and drab
His eyes peering forward
With only pensive soulful thoughts
The mirror’s tint is green
Yet the man’s color is lavender
Contrast to his lover beside him
Whose as the mirror intends to be
Also present on the man
Stripes yellow, blue and red
With white blots gleaming brightly
All blending into his face
His lover brings him for romance
Lips locking with his colors fading
For nine minutes they were entangled
Each one making his colors normal
With him devoid of any reason
No explanation of his colors
Watching the scene in glass realms
Seeing none in terms of sense
Behind them a sculpture
Phallic and yonic
Curling into itself with each note
Of both the melody within
And the passion in front
Anger still stayed from the confusion
Of what became of the colors before
But now was erotic displays
Forbidden by impenetrable windows
Only could be seen were forceful reflections
Plaguing in their prominence
No more could witness be bore
To actions inaccessible yet tantalizing
Now in a red-violet room
Only music pierces souls
Mirrors are standard without tint
And the noise within is now without
It was rare to enter the rose cavern
To be brought to the lavender man now green
And what horror was come to be
When standard mirrors showed him back
Alone and staring pensively
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