Florence at Griffith Park, 1928
Girl and Horse, 1928
by Margaret Atwood
You are younger than I am, you are
Someone I never knew,
you stand under a tree,
your face half-shadowed,
Holding the horse by its bridle.
Why do you smile? Can’t you
See the apple blossoms falling around
You, snow, sun, snow,
listen, the tree dries
and is being burnt, the wind
Is bending your body,
your face ripples like water
Where did you go?
But no, you stand there
exactly the same,
you can’t hear me,
forty years ago you were caught by light
And fixed in that secret place
where we live, where we believe
nothing can change, grow older.
(On the other side
of the picture, the instant
is over, the shadow
of the tree has moved.
You wave,
then turn and ride
out of sight through the vanished
orchard, still smiling
as though you do not notice)
Florence at 92
by Margaret Atwood
You are younger than I am, you are
Someone I never knew,
you stand under a tree,
your face half-shadowed,
Holding the horse by its bridle.
Why do you smile? Can’t you
See the apple blossoms falling around
You, snow, sun, snow,
listen, the tree dries
and is being burnt, the wind
Is bending your body,
your face ripples like water
Where did you go?
But no, you stand there
exactly the same,
you can’t hear me,
forty years ago you were caught by light
And fixed in that secret place
where we live, where we believe
nothing can change, grow older.
(On the other side
of the picture, the instant
is over, the shadow
of the tree has moved.
You wave,
then turn and ride
out of sight through the vanished
orchard, still smiling
as though you do not notice)
Florence at 92
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