I thought the modern word sat uncomfortable
Among the older established form
Though precisely right in the context of the story
But not the word of a painter, or a lover, or one
Whose sadness waits uniquely upon the shoulder
In this minimalist gallery, where all we see is light
I think of that word postscript, which here and now
Does hold some familiar beauty
Was it just that I had to say something
Or did the place faintly name the feeling
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