Marianne
Marianne laughs, she's happy
sitting under the magnolia tree
in Saint Anton's Garden
alone, in Venus's bower
waiting for no one in particular
as the shadows of leaves
dance across her face.
Her lips break in a smile,
Runs her hands through her locks,
feels the velvety texture,
smells the perfume of her hair.
Hear dear Marianne's laughter,
the happiness is always there,
come sun or rain, spring or fall
I marvel at her flair.
A lark flies by, she sees it not,
she knows its flight
she laughs in happiness
even though
Marianne is blind.
10/11/2020
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