Never Sand Flowed Through Her Hours But Only Gold

[to my mother, Mary Adalyn Young-Douglas]

never sand flowed through her hours, but only gold
I told the small roses when she had gone
as they say, on to her reward

despite her desert precints and the need I felt
to cry out to all and sundry, but she is still alive!
institutions thrive

on the Soul buried up to its neck.
but you were decked with invisible jewels
the way your children thought of you

and glittering in the hallways
where the others down at heel
forgot themselves, and shuffled in between

their severals worlds. severed.

forget me nots forget me nots!
true blue violet colours I would scatter
in your wake

the heart breaking, breaking like crystal
that you are gone.

mary angela douglas 13 january 2016