Long hair swings in the salty summer
air,
Blonde, it glitters and glows in golden
waves.
Sparkling, crisp blue of the Seine is
her
favorite, wrapped by humid saline breeze,
The sky, infinite and flawless bright
blue.
La Grande Jatte is her perfect Saturday,
with mama, and big sister Angelique.
A picnic of brie and grapes and French bread.
They would drink wine while she drank
juice or milk.
After lunch time was the hardest for
her,
nearly swimming time but, oh, the long
wait.
You must be patient, mama said, dear
child.
But mama it is so very hot now,
Red dress clinging with sweat and
annoyance.
You must wait, Madeliene, or you will
drown.
The half hour felt like days or weeks.
Then the words she hoped for came like
angels,
It is time to go swimming, Madeliene.
She hopped about, she danced with pure
joy,
the man’s trumpet, loud, matched her
excitement
Come mama, come Angelique she squealed.
Ripping off her bests to proudly show
off
Her new, blue suit from the shops in
Paris.
Bought with the money Papa had sent her.
She runs, splashing into the crisp
water’s
Relief,
burying her head beneath the
shallow waves that lapped at Mama’s hot legs,
Madeliene blew bubbles, laughing with
Angelique, they sat burying their toes.
This was Madeliene’s perfect Saturday.
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