When I first read the title, my immediate thought was Marilyn Monroe, but thought maybe you'd misspelt the name or it was a typo, you know..but when I started reading, I realised this was deeper than that...there was a reason for the name, the air of mystery surrounding it, it has that tone to it...like no-one really knew her...this person you write about.

Marilynn, was your story ever composed?
Did you live without any guitar chords
strumming, thoughtfully?

^^I love the opening questions, posing them to this lady herself, did she have reason, melody, did she know herself, all things that us as women find difficult to grasp for ourselves...it was a strong and intriguing way to open, leaving me as a reader, wanting to know her story.

but you meditated on sleep
while the city square made everyone
else dizzy with exaggerations,
you were content to wake up
half by the birds and half by musical
sunlight that did not need
streets for its performance.

^^Life was a musical, it was exciting, fun, enchanting, it made you want more but it was also over acted, played too many times, the songs were cheesy, they had no meaning to her, and she didn't need it. She just needed to rest, to have those moments for herself without everyone picking at her world, changing its scenery, composing it for themselves.

I loved the ending and how you spoke of her simplicity, which is why she was painted, and that shows her beauty, that it was delicate and untouched, it needed recording in a way that didn't overpower her, that made her enough to be looked at.

This was such a piece that I found the imagery enchanting, the beauty of this woman, the delicate features, and that air of mystery that came with the name, and the whole tone of nature with the blueberries and the violets...a chill but warm tone...that was gentle and forgiving.

A very interesting, and thought provoking piece as always MaryAnne.

Xxx