I wrote this a long time ago, and it ran in an art and literary magazine. When I wrote it I had the women from John William Waterhouse‘s work in my mind. For some reason it’s been coming back to me this week. Maybe it was all the great art I saw this past weekend. In any case, I thought it a good time to share. I’ll let you guess how old I was when this came out of my pen.
Millicent stood, worn and weary,
Against the dawn, bleak and dreary,
The gods ignoring her bleeding query,
“What have you done with my love?”
Ankle deep in her dreams debris
Her loved ones eyes were all she could see
As the last of her hope ripped its way free
And fell as a broken dove.
Followed the dove against the dawn
She flew in a cloud of white chiffon
Her scream never came as the waves crashed on
And she left, never knowing her love.