Attitude is
 A Droplet of
 Anti Poetry
volume 2
of the Heart
 I'll See You When
I Get There
 In Nowhere
 It Doesn't
Interest Me
 Letting Go Is
Hard To Do
 Life Is A
 Love Remains
 The Most Beautiful
 Play #4
 Reflections of
a Mother
 The Valley of
 White Cotton &
 Pink Ribbon
 With Friends
Like Me
 A Musical
 White Cotton & Pink Ribbon

White Cotton & Pink Ribbon

She dresses for her morning ride, pauses and looks around her room, admiring the white drapes with a delicate thin pink ribbon drawing them back into soft gentle folds.

The bed with the white quilted comforter, resembling a huge feather pillow, is tied at the corners with pink ribbon. The canopy over the bed, matches the drapes, also tied with pink ribbons. All very neat, crisp and elegant.

Paintings cover the walls. All depict a woman in a long white cotton dress laced at the bodice with a pink satin ribbon.

The paintings all display the same elegance and beauty of her room. The same woman appears in each painting. Always in a way that her face cannot be seen clearly. Looking at the paintings, you look over her shoulder, see what she is seeing, feel what she is feeling. As you follow the paintings around the room you see a story taking shape.

Beginning with a girl looking out a window at the beautiful flowers below. Followed by a slightly more mature girl looking beyond the flower bed to the trees behind. Next, a view beyond the trees towards a path going deeper into the wooded area. Followed by yet another painting hinting at a possible clearing. Last, a peaceful reservoir of water with falls glistening in the day's sun.

Always, the girl was older and her vision was deeper.

Today brings another painting. She rides her horse beyond the flowers; beyond the path, to the edge of the clearing where she feels the protection of the trees and the warmth of the morning sun. She sits against a large tree trunk and watches the water cascade gently down the rocks to the clear blue water below. The calmness; the peacefulness puts her in a state of complete ease.

Suddenly a young man passes by on horseback, slowing just enough to smile softly at her. She blinks and he disappears. She is sure that she imagines all this. She quickly closes her eyes and opens them again. There is nothing there; no horse, no man, no dust from a rider, nothing to indicate that the image was real. But why should it have been? She leads a totally sheltered life. Never has she questioned this or desired it any other way.

The next morning there is yet another painting with the silhouette of a man on a horse near the water.

She is up earlier than normal today. Eager to return to yesterdays day dreams. The sun is warmer than yesterday and the water more enticing than usual.

She finds a place just before the clearing, so she can be surrounded by the security of the trees. Sits down, rests her back against the mammoth tree trunk. The sun is warm, the birds sing and the water spills over the rocks ahead. It all creates such a peaceful atmosphere. Before long she drifts off to sleep.

Her eyes open. She feels a presence and slowly looks ahead to the water, thinking it might be that rider again. But there are no changes, it is just as it had been. She glances around for her horse and is startled to see the young man from the day before sitting against a tree trunk, relaxed, smiling softly, gently, staring at her.

When he sees her startled look he quickly reassures her he would not harm her; he was just watching her sleep. He speaks of the beauty of their surroundings and how they paled in comparison to her.

Unsure of how to accept these words, she stands, brushing the leaves from her dress. The young man rises and begins to help her brush the leaves away. They both begin to laugh. It is if they have known each other forever. They walk slowly, unaware of direction, talking, laughing. She loses her balance slightly as her shoe catches a tree root. He reaches to steady her, takes her arm and escorts her forward. Eventually they find themselves looking ahead at a beautiful peaceful blue lake. It is quite different than the water she had seen before. The water seemed bluer, the sun brighter, the birds singing more intensely and calling them to follow; and follow they did.

The trees now behind them in the distance, the grass under foot is like a plush green carpet that could only be completely appreciated by bare feet.

She sits down and begins to unlace her boots; he does the same. She is on her feet before he, dancing around, enjoying the feel of the soft moist grassy carpet beneath her bare feet.

Her arms are outspread like an eagle. She continues to dance around like a small child, lost in this new sensation, enjoying it fully.

Afraid she is going to become dizzy, he reaches out and pulls her closely to him. As she steadies herself, he places a soft kiss on her forehead, then her nose and cheeks. His embrace is a comfort as she relaxes in his arms. Their lips meet, their hands caress as their bodies mold into one.

A new painting on the wall. Her horizon widens, her emotions and feelings deepen.

The world before her opens wider and wider, to experience emotions she never even imagined. A handsome young man in her life now, a friend, a lover, a companion leading her into a life filled with beauty and love.

When she wakes, the storybook paintings on her wall are not there. There are but two paintings. One of a young woman looking out the window at the flower garden and the other, an elderly woman sitting in a rocking chair looking out at the same flower garden. There is no lovely blue water, or birds singing overhead. No man with a soft gentle smile, no horse, no wooded area with a path.

She is alone in her room with the white drapes, the comforter, the canopy, all very neat and tied with pink ribbons, but obviously very worn, they had lost their crispness and looked more yellow than white, from age.

The funeral was a simple one. No mourners gathering, no one that would feel an emptiness in their life now that she had passed. Just one single man mouthing a few verses over her grave, and a flower garden waiting.

by Diana (mystic)



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Created 7/20/97.... last updated 08/27/00\thelodge