At
dversepoets.com We are writing about statues, breathing life into one of our choosing
At midnight, soft moonlight
accents her halo
where in the garden she stands
balancing, with each arm,
two bowls,
offering water
and seeds to the birds
Long ago, she was named Wendy,
by people who commissioned the work
of this lovely maiden
in her stone skirt...
could she have known Captain Hook
and Peter Pan?
The hauntingly young girl
had ironically
just begun to live
when 'Old Black Magic' cast a spell
her way
Locals subjected her
to embellished stories
of forbidden fruit and gossip
In awe, they imagined
who she was
Why did she die so young?
Was she a victim of
a bizarre or elaborate plot?
She attracts photographers
and dreamers alike
Like the scale of justice and Libra
Her tilted head pose
and winsome gaze
could mean a choice was made
between "Good' and Evil"?
Her posture could symbolize
a fork in the road,
or a road not taken?
Arms bent at the elbow,
in a park in the deep south,
mystery lies in folds of her attire,
untold secrets covered
with new green moss
On one hand,
it could imply unrequited love;
on the other hand,
suggest she met a nefarious fate
In Savannah live characters
of all kinds
where Voodoo has a way
of influencing things
In the inscription
carved in the footstone,
it reads not of suspense or murder
or illness,
but states her ordinary yet artful
tapioca resolve
o
We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the lord.
Corinthians II
