A Geisha

Behind the weeping willows you will find
a special sort of doll of the Japanese kind.

A river of Japan is disguised as her kimono
as it flows around her gentle body.

She looks like a red carnation, picked for an emperor.
Her sleeves hang in folds, just like petals freshly bloomed.

A garden grows upon her dress; bluebells, violets,
forget-me-nots and cherry blossom.

A water lily lies patiently in her hair and
Her purple obi reminds me of my name.

My geisha is in a dance class, instructed by an old woman.
Her eyes look into the distance and not at me.

She should be dancing but as she raises
Each pointer finger she thinks of freedom.

My aunty brought her back from Japan
Because her aunty brought her one for her

Dancing and delicate
You are the Japan of my bedroom