The Door

The lined paper,

the pen,

blue ink,

black preferred,

the couch,

sometimes flowers,

the centerpiece,

a bowl of sea,

always.

Five months

of wood stove,

wall sconces,

grandfather clock,

sometimes wound up,

today silent.

 

This is the stilled life,

that awaits each morning.

For five months,

entering its hold,

becoming part of

the painting,

and finding,

a door.

IMG_6241

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