Poetry

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Painted lady, magnificently attired,
Here, in this drab place, you have startled me
With your glory;
Lightly moving in the still air,
Gently touching each upturned face
In a sea of petals;
In a moment your beauty
Has invaded my soul,
Lifted my spirits and caused me
To breathe afresh,
Delicate painted lady.

Beautiful summer's day,
You started off so fine:
Sky of brilliant blue, sunlight gleaming,
A day for thoughts and dreams and pleasant reveries;
What horror then is this
That has shattered all around into a thousand fragments?

Fire bomb,
What horror have you caused?
In an instant you have blown this world apart,
Great ball of fire,
Everywhere is glass and debris,
From fractured pipes water gushes down the street
And people, poor unsuspecting people,
Flounder, gasping for breath.

Me you have spared by a miracle of timing;
One moment more
And I too would be part of this sea of devastation;
As it is I am just all a-tremble and aghast
At what you have dared to do.
How fragile we are and how ill-prepared was I
For the horror you have inflicted here.
How I long for my morning daydreams to return!
Where is now my beautiful painted lady?



Copyright – Patricia Todd.
11th September, 2007

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