Emerald City
at the breath
of birth
it draws its last
in sleep
what dreams
in infancy
the essence
of infinity
heavy roses
in the rain
dried between the pages
of a well-worn book
yellow paint on a brick road
it’s snowing
in a field of red poppies
there Dorothy lies
asleep
her beauty preserved
beneath the globe
of snow
a twist and turn of the dial
winds back the clock
as the music plays
its lilting lullaby
a field of red poppies
swaying in the wind
TL
(written for Granny August 10, 2024)