Of flowers past

Where light my darling coming

Through the white Queen’s lace and fetters

Of summer tendrils yellowing

I see her love of shoot and sprig

Of loosestrife even as asters

Her mouth a bow of girlish charm

Her hands everywhere trailing

So she was six summers past

And so now I briefly see her

Better cast in my adoration

Than all the sun’s rayed splendour

~

Elizabeth Cook, 2017

Image from Karen Margulis

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