Barely can I put words
to the essence of
this afternoon
She strolled through her
mother's garden, wistfully
stopping often
To smell the flowers,
brush the grass with
her palm
I came to her quietly
humbly in the
hot sun
"Ma'am, may I join you?"
Bashful, hopeful, hopeless
"Yes, Tom"
We walked in silence,
her short stride slowing us
to a hum
Bees buzzed, sweat dripped
Flowers sang a
gentle hymn
Bold as ever, though not
by confidence if
only on a whim
"Would you tell me
the story of this flower,
if I sit."
Nod, smile, and she
plucks a bud, for us
And begins.
While I did not include the word dream in today's freewrite, the theme inspired my choice in an impressionist painting to be the visual illustration of my poetic story. Impressionism's thick, noticeable brush strokes, muddled colors and muted tones evoke a dreamy perspective of subject-matter.
Hi, I'm Amelia! It's nice to meet you.
I'm a writer, minimalist, tiny home dweller, and maker living in East Tennessee, USA. My blog has lived at www.amelia-bartlett.com until I discovered Steemit, where I now post most of my work. To learn more about me, check out my introduction post, get up-to-date on my school bus tiny house conversion, and follow me for articles on slow living, sustainable fashion, self-expression, and quality curated resteems!
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