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