Still Life Poem by Gert Strydom

She wears a kind of apron,
both of her hands are full of paint
where she is standing on the dark-red porch,

some shadows are burnt into the painting
and weeds bubble out at the steps,
both of her hands are full of paint

where she is observing it, does frown, and does drop the paintbrush.
She gazes at tables on a hobbling street
and weeds bubble out at the steps.

She does talk thought struck
but looks at Spanish building and a sea background,
she gazes at tables on a hobbling street

and later she moves around in the kitchen
and she has to serve some food
but she looks at Spanish building and a sea background

and she is scared that her husband is going to notice her newest painting.
She wears a kind of apron,
and she has to serve some food
where she is standing on the dark-red porch.