dual citizen, a denizen of sorts
to both the one clime that requires
her time and energy the most,
but also somewhere out beyond the mist,
(like Scarlett running after Rhett
but in this story, she demands
a happy ending, and a kiss). Her
passport's got a hundred stamps
from entry to a sunshine-shrouded
land of peace and joy, with fields
she frolics in without a care or curfew,
where she's someone celebrated, shouts
of praise not for a goddess but
a queen. She has a keen imagination,
not as good as you might guess; she's
seen the place, could take you there,
perhaps. It's true, she may have been
asleep, it may have been a dream,
but that's alright. The sun is fin'ly down
and soon, they'll let her close her eyes
and she'll be back, she hopes, tonight.
Out in the field, in the sunlight with crisp,
fresher air to breathe, a dancing partner
just beside, who knows the steps so well.
(c) Ellen Gillette, 2014
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