Foyer Flower Poem by Neil Crawford

Undulating, almost sensual vase
with slashed, slanted lip
contains a plant I recognise
but could not ever name.

Leaves like a crocodile's lower jaw
support seductive petals and
stamen that thrust eagerly
towards the ceiling.

Set against a rugged, but fake, stone wall
the shades, the reflections,
the light and textures are all
crying out to be painted.

Depiction, not description, is needed here
I slouch away defeated
as the still life waits
for the painter to pass by.