Her Wishes Were All Strawberry, Flecked In Golden Cream

[to my mother]

her wishes were all strawberry, flecked in golden cream

that never soured in summer; such a dream

of raspberry ice in the dead of winter making you

happy to be cold or colder then or

a slice of green lime in sparkling cranberry

that is quenching but you can't guess why

her wishes were a blue sonata in a bluer

town, true as larkspur lilted the lilies, as

pink as mignonette at sunset

sunrise never far from here

is a stillness gathered in a white bouquet

of all white fragrances you can't imagine

simply, said the good fairy,

such a sweetness concentrated.

will you try?

I, too was enchanted by her wishing.

entranced, I only stood there-

moon coloured, shy and wondering-

incapable of granting anything at all...

mary angela douglas 10 december 2013;revised 11 december 2013