Spoons
Spoons. . .
Bright and shiny artful spoons,
How much she loved them.
They covered her mauve walls
In rich wooden frames
Encased behind glass.
Each unique silver spoon
With its own special story to tell.
There was Montana. . .
A silver cowboy riding a
Bucking bronc, enamel inlaid,
On a twilight blue sky
In a shield shaped form. . .
Each spoon from a different
Place--each contained bits
And pieces of her past.
She recalled the spring day
At a rodeo filled with surprises
And how cold her ears were.
How he dropped his truck keys
In her lap to keep safe for him--
How they later danced the two step
And how warm her ears became.
Oh yes, her Montana spoon was
Indeed a very special spoon!
Then there was New York with
Niagara Falls depicted on the handle.
A flood of romantic emotions returned
With this little beauty, maid of the mist
Engraved meticulously in its bowl.
The thunder of the falls-- how they
Kissed her cheeks, how He kissed
Her cheeks, and how they both laughed.
Oh, New York would never be forgotten!
Then there was Arizona. . .
A tiny replica of the Grand Canyon
Encircled with desert flowers
Adorned its rust colored handle.
She recalled how she arrived at dusk.
How she marveled at the friendliness
Of the deer walking in the parking lot.
How her camera slipped from her hands
Into his. She remembered that was
The moment they met. He too was a
Photographer there to capture the sunset.
How the coffee they shared warmed
Their hands—how he warmed her heart.
Row after row, spoon after spoon,
Wall after wall. . . . could tell it all!
For the contest: "Simply, Absolutely, Utterly Just Art"
Sponsored by: Sami Al-khalili
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2010
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