Glorious Confinement
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Lisa Willey, Grade 12
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Poetry
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2011
She stands on grass as fine as silk,
Beneath a moon as white as milk.
Lined with trees who sway, and dance;
Betwixt which mighty stags shall prance,
She shuts her eyes as soft wind blows
The gold hair from her face;
This moment is frozen as time slows
To a glorious halt.
Freedom few have ever felt
Shall never leave this place.
To live in liquid walls so thin
Yet see a scene so great;
To be forever held within
The toil of an artist’s plate.