Ode To Virginia
...for Virginia Woolf
Seashells hiss her mystery, leaves
and flowers whisper her humanity,
lambent lines of plangent wisdom, stories
of charity coated with love and compassion,
poetic and rich in description.
Shackled in a masculine environment,
a room of her own
to create her ineffable prose,
a well-spring of joys and regrets.
A secluded stream disposed of her,
weighted and swirled where detachment
would no longer vex her, to heaven
that welcomed her shimmering soul,
unsoured by an unfriendly world.
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