Slice of Life Day 27: Another van Gogh
Vincent's Chair
The chair in the green room sits empty.
Its wicker seat is scattered
with pipe ashes
and spilled tobacco.
The stone floor is silent,
waiting for the resounding steps
of the flame-bearded artist with bandaged ear.
His pipe sits cold and smokeless.
Tobacco waiting to be packed,
lighted,
inhaled,
into the world of genius.
The pipe, the chair, the woodbox--
in tedious anticipation.
Needing the fire of his soul
to fill these empty spaces.
There is so much about this poem I love. But the last line is going to stick with me. Many places need the fire of our souls....
ReplyDeleteThis poem took my breath away!
ReplyDelete