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Flaming June…a bride of Summer…
Someone’s daughter, someone’s mother.
Sleeping like a beauty, beneath
the beating sun.
Feels like the very first time,
the colors of her mind
were lost to days of wine
and roses…
Close your eyes and sleep June,
let the lonely days pass,
It will all come together…
Nothing sad shall last.
Think about the Beatles,
lost in marmalade skies…
Think about Aerosmith,
flying away from here,
Think about Lord Leighton
and his lapis rooms,
think about Tutankhamun
and his golden tomb.
You are the Sleeping Queen,
hosting words, lost to time.
You are the harbinger,
a messenger divine.
Sleep pretty baby, do not cry…
just sing a lullaby…
Echo from the stones,
hum beneath green hills.
Music of the spheres,
reveals the tales of old…
Waves of heartsound
speak through souls of gold.
“whisper, whisper mumble
do this or maybe that…”
whatchamacallits and thingamajigs
seeping in subconcious.
Is she dreaming,
or awake?
Is she living…or
just alive.
(C) Christine Wichman 2014

Flaming June