Hardback novel in hand–really, is there any other kind?–
the lady with the sunflower satchel and her knitting materials
headed to sit under the oak tree.
Wine glass in hand–wasn’t chardonnay the best–
the lady nibbled on the cheddar cheese
while she read the hardback novel in her hand.
The space around was empty–as was her wineglass.
The lady with the sunflower satchel, knitting complete,
turned the last page of her hardback novel with a sigh.
She took the nail–scratched her name on the pavement–
and the lady with the hardback novel and the sunflower satchel
wondered how on earth she got to this place.
I love the repetition in this poem!
Thanks for reading, Cristy! I am in need of my afternoon nap and wasn’t sure if it was jibing or not.
Very nice rhythm here.
Thanks so much for reading! I appreciate you. ^_^
This dreamy, romantic vision of a lady with a sunflower satchel and a hard back novel (‘there’s no other kind really!’) is a space every woman would love to disappear into, wine glass and cheese in hand…
Utterly enchanting!
There’s an oak tree somewhere, waiting…