In the Frame
i keep
searching
for a way
out
picking things up
and putting them down
rummaging through the mess
looking for a clue
the map is not on paper
life has a pattern to it
or does it
think you only get to know
so much
then it’s a
blur
the mind is a mystery
that holds the heart
…
she sketched the roses
and put them in a vase
and colored them red
and the stems green
and placed ‘em on a table
in a room with a window
where she colored the sunlight
yellow
the beams flooded the room
reaching out toward the roses
but she forgot to put water
in the vase
or did she
for water is clear
and the roses
after all these years
are as rosy red
as the day she thought them up
and put them on paper
and handed them over
for me to keep
and i can hear her now
laughing
and running around
“of course i put water in the vase …
can’t you see it – it’s right there”
i nod my head
yes
i can see it
now
TL