Blue Bowl

by The Hearth Voice

Original EveryPoem Studio house-voice poem.

A blue bowl waits on the table, patient as a patch of sky. It has held pears, keys, three buttons, two apologies, and once a moth with a broken wing. Today it holds nothing. Still, afternoon gathers inside it, round and cool and possible. My mother taught me emptiness can be a kind of welcome: set the bowl down, leave room for what arrives.
64 words · 12 lines · Free Verse
motherhomewelcomeimagerysymbolismpersonificationfree-verse

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