Rubbed Out
Rubbed out
I stopped at a low stonewall
on my slow progress
saw before me a landscape painting,
ten sheep and twelve lambs.
I thought who that painter might be,
a sudden blur in the air,
when the picture cleared there
was a mare and her foal
five sheep had disappeared;
the painting looked better,
but I didn’t linger,
I wouldn’t like the artist to
think I was a part of his picture
wanting to erase me
for the sake of the prettiness.
of the landscape
Copyright © Jan Oskar Hansen | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment