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When buttercups wore yellow-dusted coats,
the splash of love was fresh, her steps were tied
to strings of pearl-puff dreams; unruly notes
of life itself—for just a while—complied.
The windswept greens of fertile fields were hung
along her trellised years. With flecks of gold,
small joys diffused their warmth till kismet flung
its curse and sorrow breathed, in ice-blue cold.
Faint scents that spilled from lavender sachets
have trailed across her decades, pillow-sweet;
they dust the rim of morning’s muted greys—
trace silhouettes of journeys, now complete.
She gathers all her colors, holds them tight,
to carry through the vacuum float of night.
Copyright © Larylee Fraser • Used with permission • All rights reserved.
Painting: “Young Woman Walking by the Field” by Henri Martin, 1889.
Painting: “Young Woman Walking by the Field” by Henri Martin, 1889.