Diana Webb

not so very far away

that evening when they let me stay up late to see her – last rehearsal, yet for me first night of seeing such a creature – can't recall if it was autumn, winter, spring except the dream was of midsummer, she the queen of all winged sylphs, sprites, elves encountered later through all seasons - froth of skirts spread out across the bower created on the stage - all pink, soft pink, reclining there for me, yes, just for me, as if she were some spun confection ( what are little girls made of after all?) -blossoms of Yoshino cherry mingled with a scoop of Amareno pure Italian ice-cream, the sort made by my godmother at Christmas – clustered crystals of the milky way infused with tinges of a cerise dawn...

snowgirl in fancy dress
melted clean away
all petals spent