Monet's Garden Poem by Mary Champion

Pendant wisteria frame a bridge
over gentle waters.
Weightless lilies rest
on the dark, tranquil surface.
Perfectly reflected in the sleek mirror,
willows reach down towards their liquid echo.

Two moored boats -
empty now;
yet I fancy I can see the beautiful girls
in their pastel muslin gowns
and broad straw hats,
bedecked with flowers and ribbons;
elegantly reclining-
flirting with their dashing beaux
who flex their muscles
and flaunt their craft
to win a kiss -
or more.

Slim green arches define
sunlit dappled paths
that run through ranks of flags.
Entranced visitors loiter on the bridge,
filling their memories with summer colour
that will tint and titillate their monochrome winter.
An explosion of hues dazzles our eyes
'til, looking through a curtain of willow fronds,
we are calmed by myriad soothing greens
and healing shades of lavender.

Flower trimmed avenues
lead to the long house
with its green shutters.
A profusion of golden blossoms;
vibrant reds and dazzling oranges
compete with vivid yellow,
with purples pinks and blues.
Drunk with colour;
our overburdened perception
sees only the impression of a rapturous,
rainbow toned blur -
exactly as he painted it.