Lady Of The Garden

(Based on walking through the Morikami Japanese Museum gardens)

On a clear day, if you look closely, you can see her walking in the gardens, smelling flowers and gazing at the water. She wears the clothes she died in, black corset from an old lover, black pants and black ballet slippers, the jeweled collar around her neck glittering dully, even as the red umbrella shields her from the glaring sunlight.

She walks slowly o’er the bridge, the sun leisurely warming her ethereal body, her features becoming more apparent. Her eye are a bright blue green, her lids and lashes a dark black pallor, her lips a warm mahogany color. Her eyes gentle into a sad smile as she gazes ‘cross the water, looking at the place where she lost her love, and later, her life. Lo she walks upon the gravel path, her feet making not a sound. She pauses at the gardens, viewing trees and shrubs, bringing a blossom to her nose to smell the fragrance. At the Doorway she pauses, lifting her head to listen to the creak of bamboo, the sun filtering through the leaves. She continues on, pausing at the lake shrine to bow softly before moving on.

Up the stairs she travels, to sit in the quiet shelter of a gazebo, her parasol closed and leaning against her knee, she sits and contemplates. What she thinks about, only she will know, for there is a soft and secret smile on her face, if you look close enough.

After a time she stands and descends from her perch, elegantly opening her parasol as she emerges into the light, passing the place where she first met her love, a covered bench that looked like a modern bus stop or way station. She moved on, and knelt at the graves that were there, paying respects to ancestors long gone from the middle plane. She moved along after a minute, following the winding paths, resting at times and then returning to where she lived, loved, and died.

At the steps she closed her parasol, and more in habit removed her shoes, walking into and around the house, exploring inside and out. She sits at the top of the steps and looks upon the Zen garden in the middle of her old home, studying the stones there. With an ethereal sigh she stands and returns to the Path, going to watch the koi and turtles as they swim.

At the waterfall she sits and watches the falls, her parasol shielding her face from view, a beautiful halo atop a shadowy silhouette.

You shift your stance and she turns, startled. Upon seeing you she smiles, and blows a kiss your way before fading into the air, a wisp and a dream.