Passion Flower Tutu Poem by Kay Francis

At the end of a meandering path
skirting the garden,
faries skinny-dip in private.
Levitating above a vine
of spear-shaped leaves,
a small lavender tutu
had been carefully set aside.

A tiny white whirligig
rested atop a whimsical apron
of floss tendrils
overlaying organza petals
held fast by gathering strings
of pale purple.

An imp of a nymph
danced naked
in a sun-warmed puddle
of left-over rain.
As I bent closer to observe
her pas de bourree
and high splashing entrechant,
she caught my scent in the wind
and quickly fluttered away
leaving her belongings
for the child in me to treasure.