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Denim Dreams
by
Mary-Ellen Grisham
You stand working in my golden fields
More perfect than anyone has a right to be:
Blonde hair, close cropped, feathering in the wind,
A face too sweet for the strength you bear with ease.
Unconcerned by the blessing you wear lightly
Around your trim, resilient frame, you shrug,
And beauty settles softly as a mantle woven by the grace of God
Wrought in comfort like hush puppies and blue denim on a winter's eve
In a warm kitchen where fragrance of fresh bread and sweet cake
co-mingle --
Memories of buttercups and primrose on a summer's day,
Fields of new grown wheat against greening hills and wispy skies.
Love falls down like smooth silk, warm rain against a dry earth.
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