Daily Poem Entries

A Lost World

A Lost World

Between the wars,
the nineteen-twenties,
always outdoors
parties attendees,
when Charleston reigned
and cool maintained,
grandparents met
while youthful yet;
she wore a cloche,
in jewels awash,
a string of pearls,
and trendy curls,
between the lake
and bougainvillea,
the would-be rake -
his name was Dennis
and hers just Sylvia.

Oh, do not ask me why
I hear the cry,
“Anyone for tennis?”


Line count: 20
Form: A chaotic rhyme scheme
For The Daily Poem, 02.11.26
Prompt: Photo of couple on a bench.