poetry and prose by stephen chute
Saturday, August 16, 2025
her still life
she used
to paint by the window
in her long
white robe,
where
the light
was good
in the morning
with
the world twenty floors
below.
her easel
set up, her chair,
her pallet of paints
nearby.
a bowl
of fruit on the table,
positioned so,
waiting.
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