Pink, before she found lavender too
a paradox, the proper wife
clinging robe on gritty floor
scrubbing scuffed-up, peeling walls
pretty, pin-wheeled petals curled
spinning on the paper.
Opposite within her head
of sweaty dreams
and pushed-up sleeves and
Elouise her daughter’s turtle
lost once again.
The dog is drowning, Shellie screams
long repressed the memories
the grass-stained summer’s cloying heat
and me in nightdress, ribbons sneak fragile movement, window small
enchanted by her water lilies.
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Copyright © Kelly Huntson and kellyhuntson.com All rights reserved.
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Thank you for reading. Enjoy the weekend! xxx
This is wonderful, Kelly.
I want to join her in her dream of being enchanted by water lilies, away from reality.
Thanks, Dale! Yeah, she was quite colorful. She called herself “The Pretty Lady” followed by her address when she spoke to kids. (I just remembered that!)
The lilies were in a koi pond at the top of an elaborate waterfall that her husband built in the backyard. He was always working on it. It was pure magic to me as a child, and probably influenced my fascination with water lilies as an adult. It’s a wonderful memory.😊
Wow…
The water lilies ripple on the pond. I imagine waves of discontented heart as our protagonist reaches mentally and emotionally back into a youth that is no longer there. There is a subtle beauty in tragic longing. Much too often this is expressed with passionate bombast, but in fact this kind of longing is more aptly intuited in quiet moments with soft, resigned smiles. Thank you for your beautiful and resonate poem.
You have expressed my adult impression of her beautifully.
Thank you! 😊