POEM

FANTASY ON A SPRING DAY

On a temperate day in early spring With puffy clouds in a cheerful sky, I stroll beside a river bank

While breezes toss the willow boughs.

I'm relaxed, yet feeling incomplete For I sense there's a shell restricting me, And hiding my totality.

The willows part, and I see ahead A clearing washed by the gentle sun.

I seat myself on a marble bench And let my thoughts detach themselves. But now, from behind I hear a tone Like tinkling glass in a swaying breeze; Like a thousand tiny sonorities. I turn to see; I'm overwhelmed

By a tangible vision, a living dream- There's a boudoir within this verdant glade! I arise and advance, and stare with awe At this prize of desire so strangely appeared.

There are no others to interfere

And I know this feminine nest is mine. I quickly discard my dull, male garb And enter a sculptured, polished tub Where I bathe with soft and scented soap. Now a mirrored closet receives my regard Where feminine things are invitingly hung.

84

Barbara Bowser