Midnight at the museum <br />& the costumes come alive <br /> <br />paintings step <br />from the walls <br /> <br />just in time <br />for the Grand Ball <br /> <br />& in the moonlight <br />on all its magnicent opulence <br /> <br />it is St, Petersburg <br />as the century turns. <br /> <br />Morning blossoms <br />over a Dutch canal <br /> <br />& the ghosts <br />of exhibts <br /> <br />take their stands <br />as the hoards of tourists <br /> <br />hunger for their glory. <br /> <br /> <br />* <br /> <br />Down in the museum's <br />kitchen <br /> <br />a talking shadow <br />comes to life on the wall <br /> <br />peels potatoes <br />& chants <br /> <br />'bout this <br />'n' that <br /> <br />what it was like <br /> <br />we stand entranced <br />as history unwinds <br /> <br />the normal day to day <br />stuff of existence <br /> <br />as we leave <br />we leave <br /> <br />the shadow talking <br />to herself <br /> <br />unaware that there is <br />noone there. <br /> <br /> <br />********** <br /> <br />Our visit to the Hermitage in Amsterdam(AT THE COURT OF THE TSAR) showed us wealth beyond all means...as headless...footless...handless dumnies wore thier ballgowns and uniforms in a surreal display of how it was...manikin after manikin as if waiting for the music to begin. In another room they all revolved on a tinkly faded carouse...it was like walking with ghosts! <br /> <br />Downstairs in the former kitchen of the old folks home a display had a talking shadow cast upon the wall relating information. It existed whether we were there or not....going endless over the same story as if a ghost had returned to her old haunts...a rather chatty old ghost peeling potatoes in a shadowy world. <br /> <br />From old folks home to grand museum...even the buildings don't stay the same!<br /><br />Dónall Dempsey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/midnight-at-the-museum/
