go back, my angel chimed
to the house you knew, the one
you remember most
then, disappeared in a glow, a flurry of
Christmas wings. o! how was I to know
that it would feel as if
I were in a long ago afternoon
when feeling as well as landscape
shone etched in relief
not mountains after plains
but just, the falling of rain
sheeting on the picture window
in the front living room.
glad was I and so amazed
to find the same shadows in the hall
on walls, on carpets laid anew.
and to relive each detail seemed
no less than finding
gold pure gold
on the moon.
mary angela douglas 7 april 2015
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