Friday, August 03, 2007


The peaches
are never as sweet
as they were
at Mrs. Hahn’s—
among the scents
of coffee and aged upholstery
and dusty metal blinds
and the black rotary phone—
time knew no time.

The hours passed
with the little old German lady;
both of us
carried away
with TV trays and coffee nips—
she in her flowered shift
and I, in my summer youth
and the perfectly ripened peaches
on a little brown shelf.


  1. I found you through Dana at Sublimation. I love this poem! Such a visual snapshot. And your art is great. Glad to have found you!

  2. Me, too. Jilly's right. This is a nice viual snapshot.

    Looking forward to reading more of your work.

  3. I enjoy reading your thoughts. they reflect such feelings of everyday.I want to see you combine the art and the thoughts.

  4. I just dropped in to say hello. I love your art work. I will be by again.


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