Door thrown wide slate step cold blank air of dawn
Dove-gray mist masks morning’s mood
Rings like engagements stack fingers and thumbs
Up to her knuckles diamonds in lacy antique golden
Blonde as the day is long though unnaturally so
They say but she doesn’t give a fig for their opinions
Of her one thing is certain she’s seen the world
Weary and bright as a wet watercolor
Pigments undiluted unfaded as spring daylight
Fractured into a thousand rainbows by sparkling bay
Windows are the eyes to a soul and hers are
(c) 2018, by Hannah Six
Image: Henry G. Marquand House, trompe l’oeil Conservatory Window 1883-1884
(photo: Pierre-Selim Huard via Wikimedia Commons)
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