Blousy memories upon wakingIn the pearl lit dawn.
Coins found under the swing
That hung from her mother’s clothesline.
Or were they from under the tablecloth
Near the cracked pot quietly inched away?
Pungent geranium leaves clung
Lashes flutter open and shut
Fingernail scrapes the window shade.
Bending to stroke her rosy cheek
Garlic and grated cheese lingers
‘Here bambina, you take-a this.’
Opening a black leather coin purse,
Thumb and forefinger magically twist and reach
Her hand cupped in his and then the coolness.
A chief’s profile looks away from them both:
The old man stooped from a lifetime of labor
The newly endowed child forgets her dream.
Some thoughts about money for Sunday Scribblings.
photo by Julia Margaret Cameron
Florence Fisher (After the manner of an old Italian picture), 1872
8 comments:
Ah, a lovely post - part dreamful, part surrealistic and totally delightful!
What a beautiful photo... and yes, so dreamy...too bad about that dream though...
Simply lovely, you have a wonderful voice.
beautiful.. and oh that photo!!!! that is priceless!!!!
This story is a gem. Each of the vignettes is as vivid as the facets of a jewel. You are a brilliant writer! The photo is perfectly chosen.
Phyllis
I wrotey one comment that seems to have become lost in the system, although the window said it had been saved. I just wanted to express my tremendous admiration for your writing skill, This was touching and tender = a gem of a story.
Phyllis
I really like the way you combined the words in this poem. The photo works so well also.
Simply lovely...thank you for sharing. Going back for a dsecond read.
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