Into the Gallery I went,
I walked slowly around the room
Studying each painting intently,
The images of Nature,
Portrayed in oil on canvas.
Each one brought feelings to me,
Feelings of the wonder of Nature.
I approached the last painting
And stopped.
Surely this is not right!
Why is there a photograph there
There sitting on the wall?
But no,
It was a painting.
A painting of such intricacy
That the lion looked real to me,
It was real, real on the canvas.
Up the stairs I went,
Into another gallery,
A gallery of photographs.
Each one a finalist
In a National Competition.
All were so good,
And once more I stopped.
Surely this is not right!
Why is there a painting there
Sitting on the wall?
But no,
It was a photograph,
A photograph of such wonder
That the albatross looked painted,
Painted from the photographers eye.