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 |