Yellow is For Friendship, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Local antique dealer held a painting,
Of interest to me. Viewed twice a day,
To work and home. We became a pairing.
Spoken often at home of its display.
Yellow roses in a fanning cluster.
Several buds with petals yet so tight
would add to my suit lapel their luster.
Petals open’d call butterflies in flight.
Friday eve, stopped at the shop to be held
in shock. I looked upon a vacant space.
How foolish to think only I could meld
With such a distinct beauty. Such disgrace.
Gave my wife the news. She said, this the one?
The yellow roses still shine like the sun.
For several days I have struggled to write as I’ve had trouble concentrating. It is all important that I do not fall into the bottomless abyss as the lifeline is only so long. So I got to thinking how I would overcome the cloud that has consumed me. Henri Matisse gave me the idea. He was a hoarder of stuff, I mean stuff. Stuff that may or may not find its way into one of his paintings.
Went into the room that qualifies for “quests are coming room,” meaning throw in here out of site. What I was looking for was a print done by Vernon Ward before 1970. The going price on Etsy is $115. So I have no fear that I need to put an insurance rider on it. Who the seller is knows nothing about roses for it is not a cabbage rose in the print.
Although I write about this painting there are thoughts way deeper than yellow roses. I am thinking back to my childhood and how difficult I found it to make new friends. Looking back it appears that I did all the wrong things when it came to making friends. There seems to have been always a need for a mediator. So here in the poem my wife is the mediator. However, in reality the antique store was always closed. We lived in Harrison, New York at the time. It was dark when I left for work and dark when I got home from work. Such was the life of a commuter working in the Big Apple.