The Belles of Ouzeley
Her eyes reject the shape of weeping trees,
Or so she says. Perhaps her words might mean
Or emphasize some other point, or tease
Me with outrageous thought, some Byzantine
Mind game. Her outré stance certainly got
My piqued attention like a person who
Says marzipan chocolates are a blot
And brown and black are prettier than blue.
The grace of weeping willows by a lake
In silence and in whispering sends forth
A contradiction as light breezes shake
The curves while southern zephyrs warm the north.
..There’s nothing quite so lissom as their limbs
Caressing air above the River Thames.