remembering Amsterdam <br />he opens the buffet <br />shuffling Viennese linens. <br /> <br />she'd smiled hardest <br />in her shortest skirts, <br />his attention allowed to focus. <br /> <br />lace cloth tucked under elbow, <br />he gathers a water lily vase <br />in compliment to her, <br /> <br />and crosses the terrace. <br />fichus trees cast vestal images <br />through wooden blinds. <br /> <br />buffing furnishings, <br />he sets accoutrements <br />on a formal chair. <br /> <br />butter almond English balm <br />moves through the rooms <br />with resilience. <br /> <br />hands steady. <br />he holds them <br />in front of his eyes. <br /> <br />his skin, <br />his veins, <br />his lean fingers, <br /> <br />manicured spoils of labor. <br />he sets a cloth aside <br />to draw water. <br /> <br />washing to elbows, <br />a bar of lavender soap <br />he holds close to his nose. <br /> <br />whiffing sensations. <br />water echoes <br />as vapors rise. <br /> <br />immersion’s his temptation. <br />he turns, checks a burner <br />and adjusts a dial, <br /> <br />unfolding the lace cloth <br />sets it on rich wood, <br />replaces his spectacles. <br /> <br />begins a new chapter. <br />waits in silence. <br />remembers she forgot her scarf.<br /><br />Donna Quesinberry<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/crafted-artistry-and-hewned-woods/
