There, across from the door
Hangs a painting, a print, a copy
Of Van Gogh's "Starry Night."
Whenever she stopped by,
Anytime she came over
She mentioned the knowledge
Of that same fact.
Instead, she called it
"Starry, Starry Night"
After some long-remembered
And at once forgotten
Song by Don McLean.

I never did have the heart to tell her
Anything different,
Instead I smiled
With her secure in the knowledge
That she knew the work,
That print, that same copy.
So, instead of a confrontation
We simply smiled together.
I always did wonder
If anyone ever informed her
Of this unspoken gaff.

11/05/2006

Posted on 11/06/2006
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