15 September 2012
I remember my favourite picture, A rectangle, all in white. I pinned it to my white garden fence, Hidden in plain sight.
I left it there for all to see, Yet many passed it by. Those who noticed did a double-take, And asked me simply, "Why?"
To each I gave a new answer, More bizarre than the last. When the postman saw it and inquired, Then the word travelled fast.
To amuse myself, I decided one day To re-orientate the page. Brows were furrowed and chins were scratched, As this people tried to gauge.
When I re-pinned the picture, I forgot to make it tight. As a result, the wind stole it From me in the night.
Yet to this day I can still laugh, When people arrive at my door. It's not me that they want; The picture is what they're here for.
I guide them to my white fence, Stand back, watch and wait, As the people mutter amongst themselves, "Now, is it landscape or portrait?"
White A Sight • Opuss № I