A Scarlet Lady, Sheathed In Green
All summer long, she stands alone,
embarrassed by her gown.
with nothing treasured, nothing gained
and naught to call her own.
A scarlet lady, sheathed in green
her heart in longing mode,
anticipates her gown aglow,
her annual glamour owed.
Eclipsed among those greater trees
whose leaves wear lustrous shine,
while maple leaves may only claim
slow passing page of time.
Yet comes a sudden autumn chill
when all her neighbors smile,
for now she stands amid the brown
in stunning scarlet style.
H. M. Galaxy of Verse, Fall/Winter, 2013
Contest Category called for a poem
“In The Manner of Emily Dickinson”
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014
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