Chocolate it was not
Although the colors
Are darkish and brown
their palates seem golden
So my childhood's treats
Flooded my buds as
The masterstrokes
Of infinite minuteness
Ģlided down tending
my feasting eyes.
Although it was truly a
An allegoric memory
Of when I was young.
My mother at her desk
The dog at her feet wagging.
The painters of Delft
Depicted what I have
...lost ...the cosiness
Of simplicissimus.
And the waterways
Spotted background
Sailed through my
Catemaranian brain
clouding the pigment
Vividly and voraciously.
On seeing the exhibit at
The National Gallery in D.C.
Vermeer and the Masters of
Genre painting and remembering
eating Droste chocolate
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