In the quiet hum of a gallery room,
Where shadows dance with light,
The canvas breathes a silent tune,
A symphony of day and night.

Each brushstroke whispers tales untold,
Of dreams and fleeting time,
Colors blend, both brave and bold,
Creating art, so sublime.

Sculpted hands and crafted clay,
Shape whispers of the past,
Marble, wood, in grand display,
Eternal, made to last.

Art, a mirror to the soul,
Reflecting joy and sorrow,
In every piece, we find our role,
In the endless quest for tomorrow.