A Gallery of Time
Beneath the rain on Sofierogatan’s glass,
shadows dance where echoes pass.
Walls once whispered art’s embrace,
now time has shifted, changed its face.
Brushstrokes linger in the air,
stories woven, bold and rare.
Collectors pause with searching eyes,
seeking truth where canvas lies.
Not just walls, nor frames of gold,
but something deeper, raw, untold.
Not just price, nor grand acclaim,
but the fire that fuels a name.
A touch of light, a stroke of soul,
a gallery’s pulse, a shifting role.
Art is not to own or keep,
but something found in depths so deep.
So let the rain still carve its tune,
let silence hum its quiet rune.
For in the stillness, storms arise,
and art, like time, will never die.
[Street art from Barcelona, photography by David Franzen ©]