Strawberry Rondeau

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Short poem about a very beautiful hippie woman I saw dancing when I went to Strawberry Fair in Cambridge at the beginning of summer 2011. I've wondered since if I should've gone over and spoken to her, but if I had, it probably would have ruined the very captivating image I have of her, so no regrets.

Rondeau in iambic tetrameter.

At Strawberry Fair they thread their hair

with fabric flowers bright as air.

Beneath a sky that can't be wider,

graceful as a tie-dye spider,

I watched a lady dancing there.

 

Her henna-tattooed arms were bare

and she had yards of skirt to spare

that swept and flowed and leapt to ride the

music synthesised inside her

at Strawberry Fair.

 

More like epiphany than prayer

and more like lucid than aware,

every blade of grass described her,

hair like coffee, eyes like cider,

on the beating field we shared

at Strawberry Fair.


Submitted: April 08, 2012

© Copyright 2022 Poncho. All rights reserved.

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