A COLOURED THIEF
Desperation in my mind to touch those vague images,
Hanging on a nail, with no feeling
Yet when I peek, I see the characters speaking,
Telling stories long and piercing,
I listen to them like a butterfly sucking honey from flowers,
Old stories shower down their letters and I try to collect them,
I am a beggar now in search of a treasure,
I speak out, "Give me more, give me the shower full of hope"
A turban comes out and my hand stops with fear,
He says, "Don't steal my job, I am a beggar stuck in the portrait"
I am a thief, everyone is a thief,
We just don't know what we are stealing,
I smile at him and his crying wife,
She stops her tears and gives me food,
A food made with rich colours,
I eat them like a hungry beggar,
The man in the portrait is now free,
I came out of the museum,
Worried about them, their job,
But I never thought of stealing again,
I learnt from a beggar.
Gallery of the Louvre -- Samuel F. B. Morse