Poem – House on 7th Street

A two-story white house
one window blue-framed
large oak tree in the
manicured yard, planter
with purple flowers
sways in the gentle breeze.

Every hour or so
the front door opens
and a man holding a
coffee cup emerges –
cigarette lit,
he watches traffic
on 7th street.

From this distance
across 7th street,
sipping my own coffee,
I ponder the image he
is painting, mixing
in the colors surrounding the house
and the paint upon his shoes.

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