The gallery was free, yet full

Of endless dull

Depictions with no wonder thundering

In my heart or head. I stood instead

And gazed within: why must my ordinary life

Forever imitate art?

*

There! Amongst the moulded marble

Art, by name 

And nature, nurtured in an alien 

Scrapered world for his and my mimetic sakes

Bought tea and toast, taught me to see that most of life

Is counterfeiting art

*

He blended Greco-Roman

And El Greco's warm

Anthropologic imperfection, added 

Rembrandt's iconography to great Magrittes

And Leonardos, Dalis, daily showed me love for

Life transcending art

*

So dear to me, so clear...

And yet he's gone 

And so I'm pondering on questions

Aristotelian - Oscar Wilde opined 

His part - Oh, will my life's sad sorrowful existence

Ever imitate Art?

*