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by Frederick W. Bassett The painting rings a melancholy note in my heart. The colors, however, are lovely yellow table cloths, plants arching overhead, their red and lavender blooms mingling. I'm thinking Europe, but maybe South America. Whatever the setting, it has stirred up old memories of us back during our travels. Occasionally, I now ask for a table for two dining with one of my dear women, lest I become a dusty old hermit. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. You've made that final journey, while I looked on. My day will soon come. The how? The when? I don't need to know. Meanwhile, I'll note, even lament, the woes of humanity, but in my deepest prayer, I challenge my heart to stay tuned to the various wonders of the world.
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