whenever I can't understand the words they say:
why are you saying this, this way and
what do you mean, really?
so fraught with gold and silver, I see
everything as if in a book of fairytales
I came to pass...
o no they cried and not alas! in school,
shaking their heads:
don't go into the woods today;
it's far too silver.
yet, I stayed, I don't know why
where every fairytale was decried;
the crown stripped from my head.
though it was pasteboard jeweled
with the coloured foils of endless candy wrappers saved-
it was mine.
mary angela douglas 6 january 2015