1884

The sunlit afternoon shines down on the crowd, unnoticeable it fleets.
Shade from high and low trees conceal the crowd - everyone seeking the cool.
No shirts ruffle, no skirts twist, the heat lead weights the air.
 Parasols are out and barely anyone moves.
A middle class mother and her miniature daughter stroll the banks.
Seemingly unaffected by the dead weight heat.
They promenade silently as children have been taught. Yet her mind is going a mile a minute.
But too quickly does the child tire of the inside world.
Her mother can not put up with the insightful child.
She waits for the days when the child will be able to understand decorum.
Sitting tall and standing straight,
she waits for those days.
When she will not resist the baths or throw tempers.
When she wears her gloves and gown and corset.
Looks well and kept and does not detest the stale inside.
Yet they walk on in silence. The mother betrays none of her inside thoughts.
The chatter of the well-lit and well-to-do draw her sight;
a jazz player plays a trumpet nice. Children slightly older play games carefree.
Yet the couple walk on alone.
The river stirs and all eyes are attracted to it. The reflective surface becomes the predator of all the eyes, beneath its current though lies lies.
La Grande Jatte shows a perfect scene; the mother along with all other adults fall prey to its show.
Like all that glitters, draws the eye, yet the miniature girl stares straight ahead, into the unknown.
Everyone around her is in a trance. What is she trying to warn us?
Why is this one girl left out of shade when everyone else conceals themselves.
The pure white innocence on this unnamed daughter throbs lightly, casting light around her.
Here is an angel uncorrupted by the glitz of the water. Untainted by its dark blue hues.
The daughter decides that she will not walk in someone else's footsteps. The mother's dreams drown in the predators mouth. The child ignores the set path beside the river and looks with glee toward the unknown path that lays before her.
Its 1884.