As I look out the window <br />from where I work <br />at the car park <br />about fifty yards away. <br />Near the fence that borders it <br />is a tree stump about five feet tall. <br />Bleached white by the sun <br />it resembles a woman in a cloak. <br />It seems to change daily <br />though I don’t know why. <br />One day it seems she is praying, <br />the next day she has what looks like <br />a basket in her hand. <br />When it rains, she changes colour <br />from white to grey. <br />Now the summers here <br />and the greenery surrounds her, <br />she looks like she is walking through a garden. <br />It is strange how my imagination <br />changes her from day to day <br />and I wonder what more <br />this tree stump figure will give my imagination. <br />Now this woman in white <br />has me puzzled as to who she really is. <br />I can give her many names <br />of precious people from the past <br />who may have worn a cloak and gown. <br />However, for me she is <br />just my woman in white. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />15 August 2011<br /><br />David Harris<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/woman-in-white/
