the still life
I painted at sixteen
... all this time
hanging in my parents’ house,
soaking up their hues
—Atlas Poetica, 22, summer 2015
Now it's hanging in my house. (Don't tell anyone, but my teacher helped me a little with the fine-tuning.)
Finally, a year after moving our father out of his large old house, going through it with a fine-toothed comb, then spiffing it up and listing it, it looks like we are close to a sale, crossing fingers.
Love the painting and the poem--especially the rich colors of the last line. Glad to hear the house is close to resolution!
ReplyDeleteA lovely thought - so evocative. There are very few things, in this life, that hold so much meaning for us. They are precious.
ReplyDeletethanks, jenny and wendy!
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