Youthful, unsullied, immaculate.
I’m counting bees in my garden.
Wisps of verdant pasture sway in the distance.
It’s a grand ball of the fae,
A dance of heaven and earth.
The lady next door sets a table of porcelain.
She delicately folds the kerchiefs and napkins.
Embroidered with violets and lilacs.
Then she sits and proposes a toast to the sunshine,
And the breeze,
Which sings a tune of new beginnings.