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Open Poetry #46
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stargal
Senior Member
since 2006-03-06
Posts 1352
OR USA

0 posted 2010-05-12 12:25 PM



We sit in our respective high back chairs, six feet from touching.
The table is laid with white dishes covered in pink flowers. The
curtains are pulled, and the sunlight casts an oblique shadow across
the hardwood floor. The aroma of fresh baked bread permeates the house.
At a quarter till you slide your chair from the table, and throw down
your blue linen napkin. Tomorrow it’ll be the same, and the only words
spoken “please pass the salt.”

© Copyright 2010 stargal - All Rights Reserved
whisperingwalt
Member
since 2010-04-29
Posts 240
Coquitlam, BC, Canada
1 posted 2010-05-12 02:21 AM


You paint great imagery...It took me a couple of reads to get it...without any real breaks in the words it is very easy to miss your depth of what you are saying..routine can suck if we let it...you made an ordinary interaction not so ordinary...WW
stargal
Senior Member
since 2006-03-06
Posts 1352
OR USA
2 posted 2010-05-15 01:13 PM


WW, Thank you for taking the time to comment. It is always appreciated.
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