What You Couldn't See In The Picture

her mind was laden with flowers richly bestowed

trees there were, the chiefest green of the leaves

in summer and clouds blown skyward

dreaming of children's kites.

you do not know you do not know

what she was thinking what the

strong gales know

and colours ranged but not her own.

and the shrill whistle of the trains

that left without her moaned

then the bridge collapsed

and the thin rains came

innundating the fields

and where the silos stored

rich flowers fondly bestowed;

the harvest of better years.

mary angela douglas 27 april 2015