Kia ora Koutou, here’s a poem…
Like the moon sailing
You move soft and slow
through the dark house
you touch the table
you got cheap that day
you were looking for a pot
and maybe a mirror.
That print you bought.
‘A Rita Angus,’ you marvel.
‘She’s famous?’ he asks,
tries to up the price.
And in the black jar
there’s the yellow rose
leaning towards you
confidentially…
this is your time
in the same world
as everyone else
like the moon sailing…
Renée
