“Lily” (Riding in Boxcars, 2006) is the
middle poem in my flower trilogy; “Rose”
was the first. I will do “Iris” in a
couple of weeks.
One question I still wrestle with is whether frogs can also
turn into princesses? Perhaps, in this new world where women have a pretty good
chance to succeed on their own, it is an option.
For everyone, lily pads can be a tough place to leave. Regardless
of where we come from, we can make opportunities on our own, but our roots
certainly can impact the possibilities.
We each have the option to stay among the lily pads or cut
the cord. Either way, it is wise to be careful about which frog you kiss.
Glenn K. Currie
Lily
She lay open in
the small pond.
Riding the
ripples of false hope.
She was waiting
for something,
To tear her from
the murk,
To break the chord
tying her.
Bedded, briefly, by
a passing frog,
Eating flies at
her table,
She had been left
floating,
Suspended, in the
backwater.
Abandoned by
Prince Charming.
No comments:
Post a Comment