this is for things you lost along the way:
the music box jounced out of the cart
one fine spring day along with the sandwiches...
your handkerchief embroidered with constellations.
the evening sky.
the larkspur, lark furled morning,
innumerable shrines.
a port heart in the strorms at sea
the gleam of small things.
ribbon roses and a garden close.
and closetfuls of toys you could invent
on rainy days
and cups of cocoa rainbow foamed around the rim
and myriad things that swim in dreams
the ones you used to have and oh
the feeling of flight when you ran
on the playgrounds;
the creak of cold swings
and golden retrievals, crunching golden leaves
and the rose tinted clouds above
the superhighways.
mary angela douglas 1 april 2015
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