Leo

Written on 3/1/16 in Italy

Leo da Vinci
How do you feel
The thousands of people flocking to see your art
How must you feel

Fairly arrogant I’d imagine
Of course you know your work is good
You’ve been told so many times

It must come as no surprise that I love it too
It would maybe shock you, if you knew,
That a peasant such as me, with such cheap taste, found someone’s work, as elegant and delightful as your own, appealing

Others eyes glaze over
“Yes. Leonardo da Vinci. His work, brilliant, you’re just like the rest.
Basic art lover
We understand.
No need to drag on the details of the way he contours the human face
No need to discuss the manner of which the red is brushed onto the cheeks
We understand.”

What can I say
A basic art show
Me and the adoration for Leo
Would he know?
Would he care?

Does he know he could appease any one?
Yet I wonder
Would he choose anyone at all?

Leo
Leo
Leo
The artist, the art, and me…oh

How I wish.
But the wishes of the observer are rarely granted.

But could the artist even pretend to care about the way I fawn over each painting as if it were mine to fawn over
Would the compliments quickly make an artist numb
Would he stop believing in his work
Or would he be even more boastful
And braggadocios

I guess I won’t know
Till I ask my dear friend, Leo

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