Lydia Jean Poem by Patti Masterman

Lydia Jean, I'm kidnapping your name because
There is no yellow brick road anymore, and your name
May be as near to heaven, as I'm ever allowed.

I took your name also because of its beauty;
Referring perhaps to the horse queen, of a smallish town,
Or maybe a shy, reticent writer in a rowdy college crowd.

Nobody knows, and you’re a mystery here
Where you have wandered in, bearing that name;
It is not too heavy or dense, it has a freedom to it.

Lydia Jean who writes of flowers, you must believe
In the poetic worlds of beauty, which are different
Though much the same, as that to which you testify.

Lydia Jean, in your own words singing truth;
Old or young, you will always be Lydia
And, to my eyes, seem noble;

Kind of a noble kind,
A dark haired maiden maybe once, or never-
But the flowers still thank you, for the sighs.