I feel a little drunk.
I want to be a country girl.
Crush aniseed from cow parsley,
Chew vanilla from sweet vernal,
Caress the heads of yorkshire fog
And the waves of rippling hair grass,
Chase the small blue, the speckled wood,
The jittery fritillary.
And when I am done, replete on nature,
I will unravel the longest string of thought,
Braided with oxeye daisies and meadow buttercups,
Tie a gentle slipknot,
and cast as high and wide as sight allows
and lasso this scene and take it home.
Marion posts her poetry on her blog site https://writingwhatnotsblog.wordpress.com/. She also writes short stories. Her writing has appeared in various anthologies and journals (Write Time, Farnham Flash Fiction, Glittery Literary, Parliament Literary). She really would like to be a country girl!
Can I come and stay for a couple of days? Sounds divine!
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This sorta-sonnet has it all. A great opening, a great closing, excellent use of all the senses and a jittery fritillary!
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