Three Leather Stools Under the Sun
Lines and Drawings on the Jars
Two tobacco jars, sitting in front of us.
We rest in silence, and imagine where did they
Come from. You say they belonged to a king,
And I say the don’t belong to anyone, not us.
They have lines on them, and drawings,
Lines that show their age, and drawings
That show stories. You say the men in them
Are working, but happy, I say they were once.
How can two tobacco jars, read how we feel,
How can this drawings, say something about us?
Two tobacco jars look at us from the table,
And probably see our lines and stories as well.
Two tobacco jars, old tobacco jars,
Who probably belonged to a king once, sit
In front of us, as the days go by, and we wonder
What drawings are left for us to read.
The people in them look at us, on this sunny day,
We too look like we work and are happy, or
Were happy once. What do they think of our
Lines and stories, we wonder, while they smile.