Introversion

and if there's a shine like abalone

in rainbow puddles after rain

she will stoop down I know she will

and scoop the remnants with her gaze

and all the way to school walking slowly

her soft eyes contain the spokes of

many rainbows.

though she does not speak that often

nor is spoken to.

for this she is marked down in red

in the archives of the school

the ones that no one needs to dust.

the ones perused.

in later life and home from work

on any weekend you can't imagine

she will part the sunrise curtains slightly

and the same pink and blue

swirled with mint with mother of pearl

will appear to her:

as if in a waking dream.

mary angela douglas 17 february 2014