Vermeer and the Sun

A poem.

The very same sun that shines
through those leaded windows in Delft,
now, four centuries later,
filters through these French doors
onto this flowered tablecloth
where a woman sips her tea,
a little book open beside her –
a small shadow slides across the page.

Since no one paints this scene,
no one will ever view it.
It is simply a moment
soon to slip away...
Yet there will always be
that light of Vermeer,
the light of this very same,
eternal sun.

Nancy Lawder Wolcott

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