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Museum Echo
Museum Echo
As a child museums were a part of my life.
I bear silence, but I hear footsteps
The smells and the sights are so, so sharp.
“Ouch!”
My mother accidentally squeezed my hand too tight.
But I hadn’t called out
So who did?
I looked about.
The smile on my face fixed upon
a painting displayed in a golden frame.
of a Girl holding a huggable Corgi in her arms
gazing into the further distance
She was resting on the edge of a cliff.
Looking into red skies and clouds
Swinging her legs back and forth
She wore a malevolent grin
Under my breath, I murmured.
“Is that dog going to get thrown?”
“And why are the clouds shaped like animals’ faces?”
“What’s this painting trying to say?”
I stapled my eyes onto the Corgi
He pinned his heart into me
My mother then said,
“Sweetheart, its late, let's go home.”
As she dragged me out,
I stole the image of that dog with me.
Tucked it under my arms as an image
Until my mother gave in
&
Three weeks later
a Corgi named Katherine,
fell into my possession
The essence of the magic of childhood!
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“Museum Echo” is a memory of the connection between a visit to a museum when I was very young and the dog I received shortly afterwards as my first pet. As a four-year-old I imagined the connection to be a magical one. Now, as a fifteen-year-old, I realize that it was indeed, but in a very realistic way.