The roses on his desk are green and red
Books lined up like little soldiers
Ready to fall over like dominoes
A bottle of Saison is one book end
Followed by some pictures in a row
A vase of white ceramic
A picture of his favorite poet
Red ribbon hangs from atop a lamp
Lydia’s card next to a box full of guitar picks
“We write to understand, not to be understood”
Little figurines and a cardinal in flight
Phone in its cradle, a pile of papers
Cup of coffee, an empty beer bottle
His life is an
Open door showing its contents
Robert
2015
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