Places I'Lyezette
My literal description:
He watched her among the beech trees,
picking up garden litter, buds, twigs and
petals, fallen-flora;
now advanced in years,
her blue-veined hands shook with
age, gout made her stumble, on the grass.
My poem:
Her likeness, arboreal, floated to his sense,
among the canopies's dross;
she, bustled by age, let nature’s corruption
break through, showing rivers of sea, on
languid limbs: and here on forest’s carpet,
Atlas, in cruel pain, tipped his globe and fell.
Written for I’Lyezette contest 6/7/15.
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