_She wore flowers in her hair
She wore flowers in her hair.
A Poem by Coyote Poetry
Good memories get better with time.
I have descended to scattered dreams and I lost my place in life.
I decide a trip was needed.
I was told in Vienna.
The wine was sweet and the city was beautiful.
The bus picked me up in Stuttgart at 7am.
It was a four hour drive to the city of Vienna.
A young girl sat with me.
She offered me her hand. She told me her name was Clara.
A colonel daughter looking for a adventure.
I told I was Johnnie and wanted to see the old city and drink some good wine.
She smiled and with a reassuring smile. Told me.
“This is good, been a long time since I raised cane and had some fun.”
She took my poetry book and begin to read.
My words were not private.
I like her. She took her shoes off. Sweeping her bare feet back and fore.
Her eyes read my words without stopping for a hour.
The drizzling rain was falling.
The Spring days were rainy in Germany.
The warm days of Spring have not appeared yet.
She gave me the journal back. She asked me. “You said love is barren and cold in the poetry.
Is love for the kind in heart?”
I wrapped my arm around her. She smiled and came closer. I told her.
“Many kind of wars and same kinds of war. Love can lead us to brightness and sometimes
to the vulgarity of disappointment. We need to enjoy the bosom of love when love is near and
tried not to weep when love leave us empty and sad.”
She fell asleep with her face in my chest. She had a flesh flower in her hair. The spring
flowers were alive and strong. I smell the flowers and I was thankful for the good company.
We arrived in Vienna. It was more beautiful than we could had known. We had till 10pm to enjoy
the city and the wine. We ate lunch and tried all the sweet red wine on the menu. She was feeling
content and I enjoyed her laughter. We wandered the old city and enjoy the ancient places.
We found a park. Vienna had a festival going. Live music in the park. Sweet Clara took off her shoes and
danced to the music. Her long brown hair flowing in the wind. I watched her danced and wrote a poem.
Beautiful young girl danced in the spring rain.
She had flowers in her hair.
Her long spring dress flowing in the gentle breeze.
Her beauty was for the ages and for lucky enough to see.
I rose up and dance with the beautiful girl with flowers in her hair.
She sat with me. Read the poem. She smiled and told me. You made a promise to dance with
the girl with the flowers in her hair. She brought me up and we danced.
Long since I have seen Vienna. In sweet dreams. I dance still with the beautiful girl with
the flowers in her hair.