Not Yet a Bust

Big Room, 1948, Andrew Wyeth

 Not Yet a Bust

©2012 Susan Noyes Anderson

In the end, we left the room quite empty.

Cold, save for the errant ray

of day-old sun that filtered past the pane.

The brighter beams were gone or graying now.

Reprised in dust and shadow,

a sinking nod to joys that once had been.

But all was never lost, could not be lost.

Soft hints of sweetness lingered on the walls.

Distilled from cracks and faded spots of color,

where love and tears and memory remained.

I left a tray of fruit upon the table.

Summoned our childish voices once again.

∞§∞

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