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Robert Lindner
Where there’s life, there’s hope. And there’s
Still Life
In passing time, I draw a vase or (vahs)
Of roses, and I see a face that was
Mirrored in a glass, once young, it is my
Now old face looking back at me as I
Draw roses, but the light changes with time
And sun sets outside my window and I’m
Sitting at the table, changing my mind,
As the outside light changes and I find
There’s darkness hiding trees in its shadow
As the roses cast their shadow, I show
The darkness in my drawing of the scene.
My shadow’s there with roses red and green.
I sit at the table, where roses are
At the center of my drawing, so far.
It’s not finished and changes with the light
Of passing time, as outside my window, night
Has come, but inside the room it’s still bright,
As I sit drawing, what I see with sight,
And mind. I’m in the picture that I see,
Of roses, as they are looking at me
And I look at them on the table, where
I sit on a chair, you can see me there,
See my shadow and the chair, as I look
At the roses and draw them in my book.
Beyond the roses, in a window pane,
There is the changing face, that will remain
My face, both young and old, as I must be
In passing time, as I draw what I see,
A still life, that becomes my memory,
There's still life, roses, a table and me.
Robert Lindner
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