by Robert L. Ferrier18 Sep 2014
You entered stage left through the fence
your hues shouting lines to my red
crepe myrtle as if its petals fed
fire to your lavender silks and hence
could rouge your costume’s lighter shades
or pull a crowd of dandelions
eluding spades and other irons
even turn the squirrels’ clown parade.
I caught your act and snapped the shot
a poster fit for any bill
and just as well, that captured thrill
a three-day run was all you got
for when I showed for the matinee
you’d skipped the gig for another play.