Because She Was Going Away

what if today you peeled off the back of stars
and pasted them in your scrapbook
so you would not forget them?

those were the gingerbread days, you softly
perhaps said where we bought hair ribbons
every time we went to the drugstore;

for some reason, more of the spring green
than anything and glistening.
I miss old wrapping paper, wall paper she

said suddenly and I could see she would
gladly live in a house with roses stenciled on the walls
until God called her

and the mimosa trees in the yard
wept feathery pink flowers
because she was going away.

mary angela douglas 28 june 2016