The Woes of Ms. Lady Katherine

~  The Woes of Ms. Lady Katherine ~

 

 

Some people called her a saint,

And I-

Simply called her Ms. Katherine.

She was such a lady,

Who wore soft frills, and bountiful,

White lace,

That shaded her blue eyes,

From every onlooker.

 

The gift of ten thousand angels,

Hovered around her,

At all times of the day,

As she,

Hiked her lacy boots up,

Tipped with sporty gardenias,

    To her knee tops,

And ignored the whistles.

 

‘Lady Katherine,’ some would say,

Why are you so sad today?

She’d simply smile wistfully at the men,

Her lips closed tight,

And place her lovely veil,

Back to securely hide

Her pretty features.

 

Something dark plagued her,

That no one was able to see,

And only she could decipher,

The enigma of her heart.

 

So high was her proud frame,

That no onlooker would have tried,

To meet her eyes . . .

 

Yet, so dignified did she walk,

That even the birds chirped,

As though to say,

‘It’s nice to see you today.’

 

She drew lilacs to her person,

For they swayed to her gliding dress,

But her eyes were shaded,

Beneath her lace,

And she never even stopped to grace,

The delicate petals with her hand.

 

She yearned to touch the flowers,

And had even christened them,

With the random name,

But it was impossible,

For her to lay a hand on,

Those forlorn beauties.

 

For her skin was made of pearl,

And her lips were precious gems-

Of a rosy red,

Yet they were a cherry,

That had become quite dark.

 

No one knew the cause or saw what,

Had caused Ms. Katherine,

To become so withdrawn,

Until one day a sailor-

Had came a long,

And asked her to walk with him anon.

 

For the first time in many months,

She smiled, and extended her glove,

And his handsome eyes,

Drove like a nail-

Into her weak heart.

So, she obliged him.

 

Soon the treasure,

Of Ms. Lady Katherine,

Was once seen again, one day,

As her little white gardenias,

Taunted the men as they flicked,

Along the block,

And they all sighed sadly,

Yet, in pure vain,

For the dignified Lady Katherine,

Was no longer theirs to treasure,

But a sailor’s,

That had long been missing her,

Who brought out the bright life,

We had all remembered.

 

Ahhhhh, Ms. Katherine,

Why must you go,

Said they,

Yet my dignified grandmother,

Had nothing more to say to any of them.

Reviews

[David Scott]

There is a strange sacred bond between great women in families...
I envey this connection and admire the respect.
How often are the most precious jewels made even more desirable as they are unavailable and underutilized...
Flirting is meaningless when a virtuous heart is longing for a distant lover.
I must say I have always held a fascination for the character of my elders. We can learn more with less pain if we will only listen to their stories.
Thank you for sharing.

[Foxemerald]

And thank you, in turn, for your keen observation of this piece. It was written about my grandmother, now 87, who carries a remarkable, staunchly dignified persona that I often canot help but to envy. Your perspective which you shared on the bonds held between women of similar characters though, I'll admit, is extremely intriguing. I feel that there is an authentic, even cultured value in the notion that women of strong characters in families grow enriched bonds, and I have been turning the concept over and over in my pondering. I have seen the pattern several times, through various familial relationships I have had, and I think there is merit in it . . . thank you very much for your thoughts. This was a very introspective review with substantial quality.