Larissa Laluna
The sun was sporting a radiant yellow,
with headlong pause, upon entering her space.
Tanned and serene, cheered by warm fellow,
Larissa’s slightly demure, emanating grace,
framed in the joyful shine of bittersweet tangelo.
Sungaze tints her bucolic gown, each thread,
a xanthous treat in the field of convergent reap.
The stipple wheat, its ocean of resonant red,
veils her pretty feet, as the sun gently falls asleep.
Autumn stumbles out, as Summer slips into bed.
Larissa Laluna with short crop of hair, breathes
in cooling air, the moon playfully turns her white.
The baby’s breath and roses, her sallow wreaths.
A figurine of snow, softly pirouetting at twilight.
Hope’s found in indulgent seasons she unsheathes.
Tapping on her bare shoulder, a yellow rush,
while pastel tulips color the lady’s countenance.
The bounty of seasons, Larissa’s paragon-blush.
The harvest moon, the gypsy’s discountenance
of rivers of green, blue sky, and a sunny paintbrush.
10/4/2021
Emile Pinet’s Quintain (Sicilian) Poetry Contest
HMS
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