we bought the yellow roses
with a blush of red at the end of budding petals
to make a sketchbook picture
to remember
you plucked leaves away from stems
and placed them tall inside a pitcher
with a yellow rose facing each direction
but you didn’t get to draw them
because love fell in the way
and made a small distraction
in the morning they were opened
a little fuller in flower and soft perfume
there’s no picture in the sketchbook
but i think that i’ll remember
the blushing red of yellow roses
© Frank Prem, 2000
I once asked a woman if I could draw her. We spent the evening talking. It was some time before I began the drawings
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Ah, you artist types. I was never allowed to leave the garret.
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🙂
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That’s a lovely poem, Frank.
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Thanks Mick. An old one.
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