Despairing, the rain reflects my mood, <br />I wander aimlessly looking for shelter, <br />A sign catches my eye, <br />ART GALLERY. <br />I feel strangely drawn towards it, <br />It beckoned me. <br /> <br />I enter. The warmth greets me, <br />Steam rises from my coat, <br />Droplets of water run to the floor, <br />There is no one to see. <br /> <br />Mesmerised by the brightly coloured paintings <br />I wander from room to room, <br />Nothing touches me. <br /> <br />Until I stop in front of a pencil study in grey, <br />It shows nothing but an old bottle and glass, <br />Nothing remarkable in that you might say. <br /> <br />But memories of Beau come flooding back: <br />His happy smiling face, <br />I can hear his laugh even now. <br /> <br />He dug every day under the pylon, <br />To retrieve age old bottles <br />For the school display, <br />One area that Beau could excel at. <br /> <br />My mood lifted, I could no longer be sad, <br />An ill-timed hand touched my shoulder, <br />A stranger's voice said 'Nothing remarkable in that, ' <br />How could I share my thoughts with someone who had no soul, <br />Beau was quite remarkable.<br /><br />Lesley Merrin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/beau/
