foundling

not that they needed someone
to clean and cook.
the cottage was immaculate,
uncluttered,
concise,

and food filled
and fed them well.

each little chair and cup,
each bed and window
and curtain
was perfectly pitched
against the other.
the civil sameness
of order.

but when she wandered
winsome and wistful
within those walls,

rearranging arrangements,
cutting flowers, framing
herself in the doorway
waiting for them-

     oh, that raven hair,
     porcelain skin and
     round red lips