AT THE GALLERY
A Conversation With A Pair of Pears
I was like you once. Fleshy, soft,
The green that waits between the sun and navy night,
Indecent with a ripeness without rot
Your smooth, un-stippled skin, fused against your
Body’s curves and wonders, I know its feel,
Its heady smell of summer, intoxicating all the table guests
Whose heads will never turn from your abundance,
Framed in a still and silent life.
And I? I’ve lost your lush, that’s true,
But I have known its lust
And felt the Artist’s feathered strokes
That lined and colored me, while you,
Un-kissed, wait in eternal pause.
Mary Lou Walsh, 79, Guilford, is retired from Yale University Drama School. Other jobs included customer service supervisor, mortgage banking, insurance, and town representative. She has three children and five grandchildren. She says, “Golf is hard. Gardening is harder. Writing is the hardest. I have been published and received awards.” Her sign is Aquarius.