A dress is just cotton  after all

Stitched in sections together

 The dress was not the point

The grass 

The meadow

The undiluted everything in a moment


It is that

And more 

That mimicked the sweet grasses


Like the high ears of wheat

That danced as a crowd

On that Cornwall holiday

When the sky was so blue

I believed the sea was upside down


It sang so purely

To the escapist in my pocket

The one who stuffed a strand of wheat 

Behind her ear

And stomped like a farmer 

On the plough carved path


Even the mud had exotic perfume



Magic realism


All of this

In her dress

As she gazes to the barn


She was me

Before me was






Christina's World


Poetry by LFD3
Read 207 times
Written on 2017-02-04 at 23:04

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jim The PoetBay support member heart!
Oh, aye—

"It is that
And more"

and yes, you were one.