Big Room 1948, by Andrew Wyeth
Poetry Challenge by Magpie Tales
Photo presented by Tess Kincaid
The Last of the True Romantics
by dkb
she wandered through
the room
aware of him
despite his absence...
they both always had
such wonderful light...
memories flashed
they both always had
such wonderful light...
memories flashed
as she gazed
into the stoned fireplace
and the chime clock
on its mantle
they shared passion
for one another
as well as classical music
closing her eyes
images flickered in her mind
like a quick fire projector
she smiled
remembering
how they always said,
"we are the last
of the true romantics..."
her fingers drifted
softly over the smooth
pair of bright red
ceramic apples...
symbolic of their
first meeting
he kept them in
the wooden bowl
they bought at the street fair
upon the table he built
for her...
she was always
happiest there
entertainingly
engrossed in one another
her fingers drifted
softly over the smooth
pair of bright red
ceramic apples...
symbolic of their
first meeting
he kept them in
the wooden bowl
they bought at the street fair
upon the table he built
for her...
she was always
happiest there
entertainingly
engrossed in one another
the dark wooden planks
creaked beneath her bare feet
as she slowly twirled
as she slowly twirled
to Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata...
it was always in her head
when she thought of him...
it was always in her head
when she thought of him...
12 comments:
Beautiful picture, and it is so right for the poem.
Thank you for sharing.
Have a happy day!
Smiles :)
K.
Lovely imagery, Donna. I can see you dancing...
Romanticism ~~~ captured!!
Beautiful. This describes such a happy and comfortable relationship. The kind that fits just like our oldest, most comfortable clothes that we don't want to part with.
What a lovely read.
Beautiful. Simply beautiful.
Nice perspective....I never thought of the room/house as a happy place of romantic memories and classical music ~
It's good to remember and hopefully be remembered. Memories have a way of making it happen,given time! Nice write Donna!
Hank
This is as lovely as a Mozart waltz, and truly romantic.
Lovely. Precious memories written about so beautifully.
What a beautiful piece of work.....
shades of roses on my walls
"the dark wooden planks
creaked beneath her bare feet
as she slowly twirled
to Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata..."
Absolutely a perfect ending!
What lovely words.
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