No Lilies
Monet has come to my garden
Looking down on a sea of leaves
I see his vibrant brush strokes
Cold chromium greens shimmering in silvery light
And my trees
Translate to les arbres de Giverny
And there the likeness ends
Though he might be inspired
To squeeze rose madder and french blue once more on his palette
When he sees this strange pond of pink water
Dappled with patterns of violet sky
But there is no Pont Japonais
And no lilies
Page(s) 24
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