that day your mother kept for you
like a present tucked away
in starred tissue paper...
a dress of rainbow sherbet.
a dress fit for queens on ascension
to the throne.
the dress of Poetry.
the little tin typewriter that really worked!
what Christmas could compare with that one
when the Star lingered over your house for certain
and Christmas tree lights in every colour
splashed over all the books, the
chocolate covered cherries,
the flowered robes,
the rose scarves.
let's learn Endymion all over again, the first part-
where we dream of quiet breathing
and of beauty that will not pass away.
go back to the beginning, my Grandmother said
when we were practicing and made mistakes
both hands together on a piece for the first time.
dear God. can I start over where the music still chimes
like freshly fallen snow for us, with ribbons in our hair-
white gold bracelets blinding the sun-
and time is an ocean set before us like a star
without a metronome
mary angela douglas 27 july 2014
No comments:
Post a Comment