Peering through the threadbare curtains,
Down the creaking deep stairway,
The Sun
Highlighted the great master,
As it stood angulated upon the floor.
Showing signs of crumbling age,
Forgotten existence,
The dust,
Embedded in each brush mark,
Hid the painter's image.
It lay like sleeping beauty,
Waiting to be kissed,
By the feathers of a duster,
New light,
Artificially created, will shine upon it,
And the forgotten image reinstated.
