[Yves S L]

Hello mignon,

For me poetry is a simple games of lines, of finding enough emotionally resonant lines, and you certainly do find the lines. The metrical inaccuracies have already been pointed out. It hits the familiar emotional points of 20th century metrical writing: [1] The epigrammatic wisdom saying: "the future make new space for well-worn things"; the exotic specificity: "still keep the Ikebana flowers straight"; the emotional interjection: "My ostrich egg!"; the final lyrical lift: "of ageless angel faces with no names".

Just all round solid metrical poetry technique, well modulated emotionally!

.Quick suggestion/edit for metrical regularity (you might just have to go rework the movement of the poem):

Amid embroidered napkins, iron frogs
my mother placed inside a crystal vase
still keep the Ikebana flowers straight,
displayed as usual on the mantelpiece.
I’m in my daughter’s house. My grandson plays
my father’s baby grand and sings like me:
guitar and passion—quite a treat to see
the future make new space for well-worn things:
the leather couch, a tarnished silver jug,
Peruvian paintings on the walls, an egg!
My ostrich egg! An abstract marble nude,
a copper fish, a fist of dried out mud,
and on the étagère, old photographs
of ageless angel faces with no names.

Yeah!