Lost Art

Lost Art Old man takes deliberate steps Paints portraits of liberated women and ships Oranges and blues play favorably on the canvas Explicit details forged over time His existence is the ancient house Attic, main floor and basement are his world Snow mounts outside his noble place all year Cold fills in the troubled fabric there at rest One slow step after the other leads him down To cellar where he hides his masterpiece A small brown boat on the vast angry sea Planted there among the quiet dust In the attic he secures a portrait of a woman She posed in the past with a pink smile Not much else Old man loved the girl But the ship has more value, color and design He died one day without a reason His art lives on The attic piece, the woman, sold for several dollars The ship for thousands Who would guess? The painting higher in the structure sold for less The ups and downs of life feted Vetted just like ours