The Rose Recitals Seen In Retrospect

the rose recitals seen in retrospect

keep their bloom irregardless: at first,

uncertainty at the piano; then launching into

musical suspension of all else and it's the

pianoforte now the plunging into 

evanescent waters wreathed in flower sounds of a

childhood's sweetheart semblances and

the coloured rippling through the room

no longer a room, an opening onto space

excused from school

and laved in the roselights now and green

and green as the twinings round a measureless rest

yet the rockinghorse made of stars won't stop

as we have galloped away or lapsed into

beauty at the rose recital and they will not

call us back from the printed programme atmosphere,

not ever; from lime sherbet punch served up on an april

porch as I'm wearing the pink rosebud dress with the satin 

sash of immeasureless poetry and a wrist corsage
 of curtseys to the disappearing

room and all the rest is altered by the 

coolness of carnation skies

when we're, dismissed-
but not, from school!

mary angela douglas 20 march 2014