Diana Webb

One at a Time

The finest exhibits it seems are usually on the topmost floor. 'We have a lift,' a youthful attendant, seeing me struggle up the stairs, says.

'No thanks.'

After the climb I need a rest but the lure of the art is strong. First his earlier work then his later. (‘It takes a long time to get young,’ Picasso said.)

Later, back home I shuffle through the postcards I bought. Did I really see all these works?

waning moon
the window ledge orchid
about to blossom

Note: Haiku first published in where silence becomes song, International Haiku Conference Anthology St Albans, 2019.