Hanging Rock Picnic
by Michael Romani

Like luminescent flowers in still life
Bridal veil symbols waiting to become wives

In a layer between viewers and the scene
The girls poised on the precipice, 
If you know what I mean

The feelings spread out
    A bit hedonistic
In a gauzy aesthetic
    Of the impressionistic

Somehow radiantly beautiful 
     In their perceived aesthetic
In their minimal awareness
     It seems vaguely voyeuristic

People, places, and things meant to be beautiful
Sashayed into the subliminally wonderful

Young girls restrained in societal roles
     Restrained into constrained expectations
To which they have told and then sold 
                         And then bought

A Victorian education in repression
That leads to a path down
          To escape
              And then collaboration 

Pieces of the puzzled 
     Provides the backstory
While the flesh and blood tangle
     Simply adds to the so called glory

Life's romantic, surreal shimmering mystery
Reveals itself in a twist
      Of limb encompassing history
Ready to be enjoyed
      One layer at a time
The choices that have been made
               Become their own crime

Yesterday's fashionistas are
     In thrall to conceived elegance
Too young and too tender
     To understand their chances
That reveal the rot beneath
                The Victorian bouquet 
That comes to light
     On that Hanging Rock day

Like sealed promises
     Torn on the roses' thorns
Commingled with blood
     And whispers of the forlorn
Earthy and ethereal 
     They are seen to glow
As innocence and purity
     Come to the age they simply know

Yet, some spend a lifetime
                Never knowing
Who they are
     Or where they are going
And in the end,
     They simply disappear
Into that freedom
            Of no longer being here

(c) May 30, 2018  Michael Romani
All Rights Reserved