fairytale capitals guard the chapters
and from them fall pink blossoms scattered
applewhite in natural light or some other
lamps are lit in far off rooms
where the evening comes in through the windows
in powder blue and it's almost taffeta
the rustling of pages in firelit corners everywhere.
swans down floats down from the far off spaces.
intermittent starlight, firefly passages twine about
lost summers. do the children wear lemon well?
their mothers discuss before ornate mirrors we never saw.
I like to think on later battlefields or waiting at home
for the ax to fall, for the last letters ever on earth
tied in apple green ribbons
those children grown were comforted
by these scenes
mary angela douglas 14 september 2014
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