to be a woman in the garden.

I would wear all white

with small colored details.

I would have my hair pinned back,

by a ribbon,

away from the nape of my neck.

My face would be nondescript

but entirely full of life.

Featureless,

yet so full of emotion.

I would have not a care in the world,

except for the sun's light ceasing.

I would be admired

from near,

by a successful man,

able to be out in the afternoon.

Romantic inquiry would cross his face

as he gazed at my pale complexion.

I would be surrounded

by fragrant flowers,

weaving them into wreaths,

or perhaps flower crowns.

So eloquent.

So secret.

A private afternoon.

What I wouldn't give

to be a woman in the garden.