Sunday, June 16

The Promenade,1918, by Marc Chagall

So easily he stands his ground
all while she floats away
So sure, so steady in his ways
Could it be his hot air that fills her up
sending her soaring to the sky?
He smiles wholeheartedly,
a smile sanguine
She smiles ever lightly
with vacant eyes
Does he know his lady has flown aloft?
Or does he still imagine her by his side?
She floats away
She floats away
All while he stands his ground.


Shared at http://magpietales.blogspot.com/



8 comments:

  1. I think it may be his hot air ... whatever the case, your poem is delightful.

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  2. Lovely... especially like sanguine smiles.

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  3. Hot air, indeed...while she floats away...

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  4. Pleasing and quite winning...

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  5. Nicely penned. Sadly, I know a few men myself who are full of hot air!!

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  6. And she floats away... may be he deserves it. lovely writing!

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  7. Does he know? He does seem a bit self-absorbed.

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  8. She's walking on air. But does he know that? Very nice poem.

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