drinking our milk up under the Milky Way
(that's above a violet rooftop)
we know the cartoons wait for us;
it's Saturday (after chores done hastily)
and the curly black dog waits under
the table for the coffee cake crumbs to fall.
sometimes it's buttermilk sipped slowly
marigold or
are the stars then butter coloured
we could think while munching our wonder bread
sweet butter spread
looking back we wonder why
they called it bread
but twinkies twinkled after school
inside there's a world of creme
frosting though it's not your
birthday
why can't the moonlight stay
the way that it was then
so dairy fresh so silver lined
inside the blue lines of
our writing tablets
after school just one week
before Christmas
mary angela douglas 19 january 2014
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