Remembering Your Impressionism

Do you remember those long
walks we use to take along
the river? Like that one where you
stopped as the sun slowly
set and the sky burst
with a flame of color
and the river rippled
reflections through the
river lilies as the lamps
along the path slowly awoke with a
brilliant glow. You
said “Wow,” pointing to the
river “this looks like
a painting by Monet” and I
said “Nah, looks like a Van Gogh
to me.”

And then you made fun of me
claiming Van Gogh was
the only artist I knew

and I said,”Maybe you’re right, but
either way it left an impression
on me.”

“Did you just make a lame art joke?”
you prodded

I just said,


and we laughed,
held hands, and kept
walking until
the dark skies
became a starry night.


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