Calla Lilly
Those indigo fantasies have vanished,
The most exquisite color of the rainbow
The last time I saw them,
It was a dry and windy day,
Go figure...
Actually
It was the same day we witnessed
Three cages full of homing pigeons break free
One by one
In Limestone, Maine.
You sketched a picture of a calla lily
In my braided hair
Which we found behind an abandoned farm
Next to a rusty silo
Enclosed by a random patch of clovers and dandelions.
We did not even question why...
Why was this growing here?
You plucked her from the sacred ground
Where tears of repentance must have fallen
And pushed her petals behind my ear.
I pressed that flower,
And placed her into a vacuum sealed
Glass sphere...
A private exhibit
For our living room walls.
But that picture remains unfinished,
And the blue ink
Has already rubbed off to the next page.
By KRISTEN ADELINE
© 2007 KRISTEN ADELINE
(All rights reserved)
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