sun’s glowing rays
bless Chanel’s weathered fingers with a warm kiss
beguiling weary eyes with a rich smile
she knows she will die
yet no tears abide

daisies sway and pitch
as if shaking their lazy heads of the sloth
of the hot noon
scents of lemon mint rising
flowing, swelling each thoughtful reflection
 
heathers hang on the hillside
~ as dainty as the embroiderie anglaise 
dripping from her pockets ~
and cling to every nook and cranny
to soak up each morning globe of dew
 
sweet violet hues caress her eyes
with memories of lavender
which gaily flirted along the rues of St Saturnin-les-Apt
golden pigtails tickling her china cheeks
dreams laid with every footprint
stamped in gentle loam
 
1938, waves of warm amethyst
wander and stretch
across the horizon
before the stench and squall
of a mad machine
churned through the land
disrespecting, destroying
manipulating, mutilating,
wrenching quiet souls from their tranquil spaces
 
sweat dripping down their fearful faces
fell not upon those sun-drenched fields
but drummed like thunder
on concrete and steel
hearts ripped asunder
ripples shaking, vibrating
right to the core
drenching the sod in beloved blood
 
life as cheap as the dirt to which it was returned
~ dust to dust
ash to ash ~
 
whole winters passed in one summer’s day
yet each heart retained the scent
of thriving lavender
and grew stronger in the wake
appreciating each tender blade of grass
every gentle zephyr’s whisper
the quietest plash of rain
 
her Maman planted alliums near Papa’s grave
~ five lilac heads rising in praise
of his bravery ~
floating in the breeze like mist-filled pearls
on a sea of peaceful green
 
and in time
her precious lavender seeped
and spilled in between
filling the gaps that were left

a few heads still sweeten Chanel's lace
as they lie in the locket
upon her now-still chest
her azure eyes smiling
transfixed on the sunlight
which carries her heart on

 to Papa’s quiet sea