[Inspired by Delibes’ Lakmé (Act 1): Flower Duet]
Sunlight glances off the glass of window and vase,
pale petals cradled in tender golden glow of rays,
refracted through the water into a miniature rainbow
on the surface beneath. She moves her hand so slow
through the colors, skin washed in varying hues –
now flesh, now mottled red and yellow, flickering to blue.
Lips parted, she pauses, warmed by the heat and
smell of newly cut grass – how she longs for sand,
crashing waves and salty air; watches instead a bumble bee,
lured by the pollen, on a flower land, fulfill its need
for the golden dust and disappear with a buzz, in a blur.
It hits her then, the memory: walks on the beach, curls
blown back by the sea breeze – and her hand in his,
firm, reassuring; both of them knowing there would be only this.
The window rattles, breaking her reverie.
The doorbell rings, announcing a delivery.
The woman leaves the sunlight,
inhales: everything would be alright.
[Copyright N R Nolan © 2015]