My poem for this week’s prompt at Poetic Bloomimgs
A Glimpse of Mary
I call her Mary, but her name was never recorded;
Mary seems to fit as well as any other title
for a girl who was left behind.
Roughly aged ten and as pretty as a picture,
she sat in a small round-seated arch-backed chair,
upholstered in crushed green velvet.
She wore a dark blue dress that reached to her calves,
white lace trimmed the hem and short puffed sleeves
and her stockings were black… Read more