would you believe me then
if I scattered my thoughts like rosepetals
like petals of the gardenia wind the wild chrysanthemum
and it all came raining down as if God's ceiling
were only made of flowers?
for hours they would question me
perhaps in the school rooms
and in the offices where
no dreams are hatched
or angels would come down
and latch the door saying hush,
don't tell them any more.
and my imagination quieted would sit
near the bay windows
drinking hot chocolate.
and there on the window panes
it is written in God's finest raindrops that
the dews have vanished overnight
and I don't know where they are now
mary angela douglas 27 march 2016