Ferny Roses On Old China Appeared In My Dreams

[to my sister]

ferny roses on old china appeared in my dreams.

the saucers held light; we sipped it carefully

so that the children would not cry.

(we meant, our dolls).

so that the children would not cry

I fastened soft words like a brooch upon the sun.

but the sun melts everything,

even Chopin.

will I pour from the Milky Way

from a pitcher of milky quartz

the tea party punch we loved back then?

when roseate was our favorite word of all.

or will invisible weddings sigh through the trees

and the ballerinas we were going  to be

dance green: as if it were

the only child of all the colours?

in tulle, of course!

with a sugar cube sparkle!

lean back in the swing;

this time, you'll fly through clouds.

you'll barely notice grief.

and on the seesaw

rickety with our laughter-

cold as Christmas air-

one of us may reach

the moon in her mother of pearl

lighting up your firefly piano scales;

the dark green garden chair.

mary angela douglas 27 july 2014