Simple It WasThen And Lovely To Be Told

simple it was then and lovely to be told
that all the leaves were red and gold
and this was named, autumn

or that clay could be moulded into shapes
blue pink yellow or green
and you would indicate snow

in the picture falling down on the town
in silver or gold
or fill the whole page with roses

corner to corner
but blue is your favorite
because it soars

you tell yourself streaked with
pink until it shades into violet
you tell yourself you love the

fairy tales best and always will

what good is rest from wishing wells
when there are picture books to be read
and turning the pages crisp like Christmas

is all you want to do anyway
and so you stash them under the covers
not meaning to deceive but just because

it's possible to dream like this
even when you're wide awake
in the middle of the day

and counter your fears for years and years
away from the windows that opened onto
the playgrounds, the little stream

the honeysuckle vines
the stalwart pines

on grown-up sleeting days, on the days of
infinite reprimands at work
in the identical way

you did then.

mary angela douglas 5 january 2016