Art

A work of art stands before me
Some kind of beauty only I can see
To my heart, they hold the key
And to that effect, as it should be

A work of art behind a glass case
My touch, trembling at a steady pace
In sadness that I may never place
It upon their captivating face

That sadness turns to distress
To which the masses may have guessed
As that touch clenches my chest
My heart cannot lay to rest

Breaking through the frustration
No second thoughts, no hesitation
Breaking the glass case in perspiration
So I may be with my inspiration