The world outside
where children giggled
and mothers shushed
was never kind
so her music
rarely left her porch.
Yet I longed to enter
her lavender house
through ribbons
that fluttered
instead of curtains
where I could see
her dance in purple
eating lilac cookies
with calming tea.
And we
could be the change
inside.
Some called her weird
because she lived
a purple life,
dressing in various
shades of lavender,
wrapping herself
in velvet scarves
of color.
Wild Wisteria
Orchid Mist
Purple Rhapsody
Misty Violet
Passion’s Breeze
all sent her smiling
till irradiate wafts
of various purples
were painted on her walls,
interwoven into her fabrics,
filled her color plate
and plastered on her soul.
Yet, I couldn’t help
smiling when I saw her
wishing I held another chip
to toss onto her table
just for luck,
a gamble many would not take,
but – oh, the joy in playing.