Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Postcard For The Tin Soldier In Tintypes Of The Rose

[to Hans Christian Andersen, of course!]

how beautifully you remembered that room;

sailing back from doom it seemed far lovelier
than when the something snatched you from it.

stately, the Christmas castle on the nursery tabletop

imparts a rosier glow;
amid the evergreens and swans
the pink dancer perfectly pink
is balanced still on the mere spangle of her heart.
how long you had floated in the gutters 
gnawed by the water rats-
never wavering in the dark-

still musket bright

though who would have seen you there
being brave in the dream
of not one toy coronet flourish
to sustain you.

and now you're home ah, so it seems

but the wind will find you
turning it all to snow  
outside the elaborate windowpanes

till not one flake of you remains.

the nursery fire dissolves
and you are gone.

beyond the storyline I see each time: 

each of them, stalwart not pretending
and my toy coronet surprises
not ever the green, gold,
crimsoning angels
with its small Christmas 
epitaph, at last, for you: 

here blooms an Eternity of

floating on pink waters-
mirroring the rose gardens of Heaven

mary angela douglas 15 october 2013;revised 18 october 2013