His Lady

He saw Lady lying in the field,

small poppies surrounded her head,

providing warmth to her cheeks,

which they lacked that afternoon.

He walked to her and noticed her slumber.

Desperate not to wake her

he lowered the side of her dress, which had risen,

showing the pale skin which resided underneath.

Her hat had tipped, leaving her forehead uncovered,

he pulled that down as well,

shading her eyes from the afternoon sun that blazed.

Finding her hair fallen out of her ear behinds,
he was very careful in placing it back,
knowing her sensitive ears meant that she could stir soon,
but she did not.

Lady’s mouth curved in happy dreams,
her eyes lay still,
and her gentleman tidied himself,
ready for her wakening.

He sat close,
as he would if they were almost alone,
reaching his hand out softly,
he touched her cheek.

Temped.
As temped as it never was.

Whispers from his lips reached her ears,
touched but not receiving.
His beautiful lady still smelt her sweetness of roses,
so he lay back to wait.

Yet the bench across the way,
hosted the women who were talking,
of the breaths,
which had long since evaporated poor Lady’s chest.