Grandmommy's Robe
A silken robe of palest blue,
Wound 'round its hem was creamy lace,
It wrapped me like a kiss of dew,
Like love reflected in her face;
I trailed around, a child too small,
Pretentiously properly grand,
A Cinderella at the ball,
Waltzing with no visible band;
I postured up and down the halls,
As melodies rose from below -
My arias with La Callas -
Deafening off-key crescendo;
Indulgent accolades followed
My dramatic operatics,
Her sweet embrace – ah, Emeraude –
In that robe, love’s lingered fabric.
© Alys
25 January 2005
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