POEM JANUARY 2025
Still Life
Entering that gallery so many years ago,
I spotted a gem, the perfect fit
for the remaining blank space
on one wall in my living room.
It’s a small piece, really,
to dominate such a large room —
two slender pale yellow vases,
each graced with a modest bouquet
of brilliant orange hibiscus blooms,
set off within an ornate gold frame,
which glistens whether bathed
by the afternoon sun or more simply,
in the reflected light of a nearby lamp.
When I return to my apartment
after dinner, I sometimes amuse myself
by spinning a backstory for the painting:
a peace offering from a contrite beau
who’s wounded his sweetheart,
a birthday gift from a loving daughter
to honor her hard-working single mother.
But always it welcomes me home,
and reminds me I’m still here.
— Martha Golensky
I spotted a gem, the perfect fit
for the remaining blank space
on one wall in my living room.
It’s a small piece, really,
to dominate such a large room —
two slender pale yellow vases,
each graced with a modest bouquet
of brilliant orange hibiscus blooms,
set off within an ornate gold frame,
which glistens whether bathed
by the afternoon sun or more simply,
in the reflected light of a nearby lamp.
When I return to my apartment
after dinner, I sometimes amuse myself
by spinning a backstory for the painting:
a peace offering from a contrite beau
who’s wounded his sweetheart,
a birthday gift from a loving daughter
to honor her hard-working single mother.
But always it welcomes me home,
and reminds me I’m still here.
— Martha Golensky
