Bridled in Beige

       I could never forget the force you were, and to see you bridled now in beige weighs on my heart.


Vibrant red, bold as the bison on your wall. Summertime yellow, holding up Mount Whitney in your strong arms. Your heart, comforting as a Molesworth chair in a fireside lodge. You inspired many, and your influence overflowed into their homes. You shed light on the best in me, and I tried to repay my debt by giving you a summer. Each time I came to see you I wore my finest clothes and held noble posture. I learned all I could from you. Proudly showcase what you love, and the more you will resonate and connect directly with the hearts of others. I admired you.  I studied you.  I wanted to partner with you. 

                Change. Inevitable, but often jolting and uncomfortable. I knew that money and recognition effect you, but I underestimated just how much. Your values shifted. What used to be relied on was slipping away. Your colors faded, one wall at a time. Updating? No. It was the destruction of a legacy, an erasing of your signature.  

         That familiar stranger of my memory comes back when I see you now. We exchange pleasantries, but the warmth I felt for you is now indifference laced with pain. You make me question if everlasting passion is sustainable, or if what I love will always fade to cold ashes and blow away in the winter wind. “Become all that you need.” I have attempted to boot strap myself many times and move on. But I will never be able to replace you.  Your name to me will always be what it once was, The Rockwell Museum of Western Art. 

                     Forever in service to the Muse, 

                                         -Kelly Ormsby