The sable brush,
light oak handle
had different meanings.
My dad’s held shaving
cream swished in a mug
then applied to fresh
whiskers. The long
handle on mine had
oil paint clinging
waiting to be dabbed
on stretched canvas.
Turpentine cleared
paint color; running
water cleaned foam.
Silky fur formed
memories of
childhood
moments.
(first published 2015 The
Write Place At the Write Time)
Lois Greene Stone, writer and
poet, has been syndicated worldwide. Poetry and personal essays have been
included in hard & softcover book anthologies. Collections of her personal
items/ photos/ memorabilia are in major museums including twelve different
divisions of The Smithsonian.
Dear Lois,
ReplyDeleteA very vivid poem about cherished memories, well written.
Thank you for your contribution.
Best wishes,
Inge
lovely nostalgic piece
ReplyDeleteVery nice comparison between two items, with personal touches.
ReplyDeleteNice reminder for us to look closer, Lois, reminisce
ReplyDeleteHello Lois. Thank you for this warm and memorable poem. I enjoyed it. It brought back thoughts of my beloved maternal grandfather shaving and explaining to me what he was doing. Such great memories. Continued blessings to you!
ReplyDelete-MJ
(www.creativeinspirationspp.blogspot.com)
Excellent piece Lois, nice to see your work here again!
ReplyDeleteVery good Louis,
ReplyDeletegreat memories painted so clear
Knight Writer
Lois, what an lovely nostalgic piece reminding me of my dad and his shaving creme brush and my love for painting with oils. Thank you for sharing a well written poem.
ReplyDeleteCharlene