I: The Villanelle of Viola Elle

Viola Elle took his heart

But there wasn’t much to take

Strewn to pieces and to parts.

The written word her counterpart

In those blossoms caught his love

And Viola Elle took his heart.

So brief her stay to long depart,

Meadow memories of clover doves

Strewn to pieces and to parts.

Without hand and leading start

To silent fields of fell foxglove

Viola Elle took his heart

And in taking, sorrow did impart

The waking of his life whereof

Strewn to pieces and to parts.

In form such beauty is betrayed;

From pen she never fully fades.

Viola Elle took his heart

Strewn to pieces and to parts.

• February 2025