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Rated: E · Poetry · Romance/Love · #1569432
A dream in an art museum
I sat in silence, uncomfortable
And watched the woman who watched the field

Never have I seen her face
Just her white bonnet and simple country dress

I see her through a window framed in birch
Reclining in the grasses of the field

I long for her to turn her face to me
So I may see the beauty that I have imagined

A beauty familiar yet unknown

I want her to share with me
The secret of her field

A secret that has enthralled her for so long

I see grasses of every shade
And a hundred thousand brush strokes

I see the endless blue sky
I see the most definite horizon
Unmarred by trees

I hear the wind in the gentle bend of the grasses
I hear its rustle
A buzz that travels through the field but never leaves

It changes in pitch and intensity as it rolls over itself
As though it was a sea

Fresh green fills my nose and is finished like wine
With tannic earth

Each breath aided by the tidal roll of the wind
In the still in-between I smell Lavender

English Lavender sent by her aunt
It is her most treasured possession

She wears it for me
She turns to me

Her smile is the one I have always known
Hand extended

I take her hand without hesitation
And we stand together and see the field
And are captured anew

I turn and see myself sitting, watching
And I remember

The broken spell still tingles

A reminder of a dream of a magical moment

I do not visit her anymore

There is no need
For I took her with me when I remembered myself

I smell Lavender during the still in-betweens
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