Formerly Dear
Formerly, dear,
my books like velvet-dressed
put aside, perfectly straight.
Last light flickers
dusk bids, “God bless,”
as I gently turn on the night,
the antique brass polished,
and symphonic-lettering hooks
harmonize in the gentler time
before the internet.
Roses flourish in crystal vase,
cranberries and ivy vines contemplate
the corpulent beauty of day’s end.
A table round in burgundy gown,
intricate lace cradles intimate thought.
My chamomile tea relaxes on lyrics bound,
stacked red and brown dust jackets burning.
I write and write and write.
In the end sits
my inkwell and quill,
a magnifique glass illuminating his name,
my spectacles
and a flowery letter to my kin —
all wrapped up as I go to bed,
in the romance of Victorian daze.
10/15/2019
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