NaPoWriMo Saturday, 6 April 2013

Sun days  

(For my sister)

A faded curtain splashed with marigolds,

clumsily arranged on a sloping lawn,

becomes a magic carpet.

Casual cruelty masks a plea.

Can you let go?

Who will win?

Will you come with me?

In a neglected orchard

drunken wasps blunder into us

playing at Queen of the May.

We lean over the edge of the arched bridge,

sticks poised above the cold stream.

Gnat clouds spin.

Can you let go?

Will you come with me?

Who will win?

© Marion Adams 2013

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