Editor Kathy Kieth of Medusa's Kitchen published this poem in October. Thank you again, Kathy!
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com
PAINTED WALLS
The first coat of paint in that cozy kitchen
was a soft yellow that reflected the morning sun.
They drank their coffee there and ate their bacon
and eggs together at the table.
Youth and fortuity were on their side,
that beautiful shirking of what should be done,
saved for later.
The second coat in that kitchen
was a shade of coyote brown to hide
little jellied handprints and the scuffing of shoes.
With full adulthood upon them,
they were often steadier and craftier achievers.
The third coat in the kitchen was the hardest to choose.
They sat there for what seemed like an endless time,
trying to decide what color would be most welcoming to the new owners.
Finally, having decided, they picked up their meager belongings
and hoped that the home would have welcoming walls.
The first coat of paint in that cozy kitchen
was a soft yellow that reflected the morning sun.
They drank their coffee there and ate their bacon
and eggs together at the table.
Youth and fortuity were on their side,
that beautiful shirking of what should be done,
saved for later.
The second coat in that kitchen
was a shade of coyote brown to hide
little jellied handprints and the scuffing of shoes.
With full adulthood upon them,
they were often steadier and craftier achievers.
The third coat in the kitchen was the hardest to choose.
They sat there for what seemed like an endless time,
trying to decide what color would be most welcoming to the new owners.
Finally, having decided, they picked up their meager belongings
and hoped that the home would have welcoming walls.
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