There once was a lady who
just loved the color lavender;
she lived in a lavender house,
the only one in town, surrounded
by lovely lavender flowers.
Everyone knew her simply as
the lavender lady of Kilauea, Kaua'i.
All her walls were painted
varying shades of purple;
her rattan furniture was also
hand-painted lavender; as were
her cupboards, shelves, doors.
Household vases held lavender
bouquets, meals were served
on lavender china, no drape
or towel was ever seen there
ecept in lavender or purple.
Her clothes were variations on
the lavender theme: blouses had
lavender and white pinstripes or
bloomed huge mauve peonies or
tiny maroon rosebuds; there were
solid lavender slacks, plaid purple
skirts, purple polka-dot dresses and,
of course, lacy lavender underware.
Never mind that she had once taught
swimming and life-saving as a YMCA
volunteer for 57 years; or raised six kids,
marrying at age 40 after a second date;
or moved to Hawaii following a visit
thirty-five years previously.
When I met her, she was a stalwartt 90
planning her distant funeral: she'd have
a lavender casket, cascades of lavender
flowers, buried in her best lavender dress.
first published in Illinois State Poetry Society
©2017 Bonnie Manion