The gentle wind brushes her face,
its paws playing with her soft auburn hair.
Her eyes lift to the loving golden sun,
her delicately spun cotton dress twirls about as she dances through
- - the southern green fields and downy whiteness.
Her father's fields, and his father's fields,
these pastures of green and white have seen so much.
Quilts of green, quilts of white, so many folks –
cheerful people, famished people, miserable people, plump people;
- - worked these fields of red soil.
The bright blue sky full of fluffy clouds,
pulls her to the large glassy pond.
Peace comforts her here,
the foreboding war so far away and yet
- - so very close to heart and home.
The supple blue waves lap at her feet,
their fingers tickling the bottom of her toes.
Her eyes caress the warm golden gentleman,
sitting beside her on the worn wooden dock in his gray cotton uniform.