Like the mythic light at dock’s end,
my light blinks atop the power tower that
threads voltaic veins through mountains
to our lonesome Kentucky coal town.
I grasp thin air with outstretched arms,
a dusty vision from this ashen valley.
Her cottage sits at the tower’s foot,
enchanted home of flowers and lawn gnomes.
I watch but keep separation, from
tinkling laughter across hymnals and pews.
A grand departure in flowered bonnet,
beneath Easter’s sun her colors bloom.
This distance preserves her perfection
that I might pass days with promise,
never fouling the dream with the truth,
my Daisy forever one day away.
* This is a countrified vision of the unworthy Daisy Buchanan.
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