Still Fitting In

rainbows the colours of sand
we saw there on either hand
and the music of Glass

and the feeling that these things pass
tinted the waters turquoise in a dream.
is there anything left, you asked of the larder

where the ghosts of the jams whispered, no.
so we sipped on music and watched the snows
and it seemed that whatever we missed

would never be told of the years they stole
and the sands arced over us then
but we remembered God our Friend

in the sprinkling of stars

through the clanging bars
and the stoplights changing colours again
oblivious of Christmas and still

oh still, fitting in.

mary angela douglas 11 january 2016