Written (after the fact) for the GloPoWriMo Day 4 prompt: write your own poem about living with a piece of art.

Now, I have no art on my walls,
nothing at which to stare and contemplate
its meaning;


All the flashy screens beg attention
diverting my thoughts,
more mundane;

In simpler times, a painting was all.

Yet, over there, a student’s picture
– I requested her to paint my cats;

And glued to the wall, another friend’s
attempt at writing a comic about Chinese rock music.

Band stickers adorn the cupboards
and my favourite 30-year-old poster hangs tattily
above the rows and rows of CDs,
themselves, providing a wall of colourful design.

So, I guess there is art on my walls,
scattershot and thoughtless,
each little piece contributing to the library of my life;

a mirror without glass.