A Purple Chequered Poem by Maria Barbara Korynt

Do you remember this blanket? Soft, purple,
chequered was, wiped in the corner.
At the picnic mosquitoes cut and not
helped moves with hand to drive them away

You have always had fairly good
ways.Under the blanket,
covered entirely, only
underit, we started breakfast.

Our stifled giggles heightened a sound
of insects. And with evening, in the circle
of smoke candles lighted, the supper
on a purple, smelt of the night.