Caroline, Yes!

Where has your red hair gone?

Once faded strawberry-blonde with sun

and showers, lemon wine and time

the heat of age has charred it to pale ash.

You’re not the girl I loved when, long ago

your brazen, bright, bronze tresses

shamed dull fire to cower in your radiance

and struck bolt lightning back beyond the sky.

Then, you raucous rocked; now

you sing the blue rinse meekly to perceived wisdom

that ladies of a certain age should grow old

gracefully. Why? You were ever graceful.

Gazelles were shamed and hid their faces

when you passed. Elocuted fraudsters fell

in homage when your rare and plangent vocal

struck deaf pretenders to the High Queen’s throne.

Nature is not mocked if you command

a helping hand. See here! Vermilion, crimson,

garnet, blood and fiery flame await

your hand and your command. Caroline,

phoenix, arise, refreshed, renewed, reinvigorated!

Only say, ‘Yes,’ and resurrect that red

that brought us both to life, me and my love.

First published in Reach Poetry

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