was of still life, life
being
pears and apples, fruit
picked ripe,
all in a green bowl
set on a wooden
table.
the walls were of a lesser
green,
the shadows
and the lights
came down in angled
lines.
there was no one
in the painting.
no hand, no arm, no face.
just fruit
fresh and full of color,
soon to
go brown.
it's what a painting.
or love should be.
just off the vine.
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