This entry is part 33 of 92 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Spring 2011
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.
[poem temporarily removed by author]
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.
THE PORTRAIT
My endlessly tattling nieta asks:
“Who is that old woman on the wall, abuelo?
Why does she follow me wherever I go?”
I have always meant to dust it off,
this picture on the wall: a patrician pose,
an arching neck, a hint of a shy smile.
“No one you know. But sing me another song,
that one about a new song unto the world.
How does that go again? Sing a new song.”
“Her eyes are sad, and they always follow me.
Why does she do that, abuelo. Is she lonely?
And she has a funny-looking dress. Tra-la, lala.”
But that was another time. Another world.
At sundown I look into those eyes, and I go there,
beside her, and sing old songs. O, the old songs!
The late spring wind ruffles the gossamer curtains
that brush against the jangling chime bells: outside
the wind has no regard for our little nostalgias.
—Albert B. Casuga
04-22-11