Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the Sunday Writing Prompt. From the choice of terms I’ve chosen the words: orrery (solar system model) & Divan (sofa without end), Alice blue (color), Eucalyptus (scent), circle (shape), photograph (item in purse/wallet).
Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie
“Hope in the Air”
She traced the gold paint bitter,
It gleamed as didn’t dirty pennies.
Her measly sum was but a crumb,
And she had risked it for a piece of man-scum.
She returned, here, always — never too far;
Her childhood land of faeries; her home.
She approached the library orrery,
Spinning the sun’s gleaming gold orb.
A sigh escaped her diva-dream lips; she bit them.
Don’t let a woman fool you,
Scarlet lips, they never stay put,
The lipstick travels, blips.
But, masks blood if you chew them;
If you forget the earth’s relation to the sun,
Your relation to reality.
So, she dreamed adrift,
In knotted flannel shirt and skinnies;
Stroking grandma’s velvet Divan,
As if she could fashionably faint.
As if she could divine meaning, stroking Alice-Blue upholstery;
In cup of tea tumbled, crushed nearby;
China splinters dust, fancy tea spilled.
Some relief in eucalyptus leafs soothing;
She can, finally, breathe in her favorite tea;
Nose no longer useless.
She flips off patined-ruby shoes;
Kitten heals meowing, released.
Wiggling her toes painted with satin-ribbon;
Bemoaning her lost love, traitor, worthless, and without guile.
“I never would have done what you did to me,
To anyone, not ever.”
Last words she thinks, but never hurled.
Her Alice-Blue eyes darken,
Trace the doors golden pattern;
Images she modernized, decor, and memory intertwined.
Turquoise-tranquil dreams as her head burrows in velvet;
Arm thrust over head, maiden helpless — but she’s not.
The Orrery still twirling in a circle as —
Red-herring anger flashes.
Red-lips torn, pain to forget frustration,
Tears as a Phoenix waiting to burn, to discover renewal.
And not enough fresh air in the room,
Library dust, mildew, overpower eucalyptus.
She peers at her gram’s patined heals cherished,
They’ve escaped bone-China chips;
Their antiquity safe on Robin’s-egg plush carpet.
A peculiar aroma, dust, eucalyptus, book spines, horse-glue;
Ancient editions, thrown away,
In her family the women restored; she does to this day.
Yet, the photographs of history split her childhood dreams,
Summers here, years of tea parties, and creamy-egg-salad sandwiches.
Wuthering Heights, The Moonstone,
Peter Pan, and The Sun Also Rises;
Scattered between old-editions, photo-albums,
Pictures, preserved photographs; her addition to family history.
Saving literature, pictures, from sunlight, and tears;
She lies back, stretches and dreams,
Alice in Wonderland, Anne of Green Gables,
The Yearling, and Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes.
She’s humming a tune,
“There’s hope in the air,
There’s hope it the water,
Not even for me. . .”
Until she yanks out her wallet,
Throws out two twenties;
Penniless, but beyond rich with orreries and moonscapes.
©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.