Friday, June 10, 2016

This Is The Dream Book

this is the dream book for those who are left behind
who need to interpret signs as if they lived
in a fairy tale and were cast

as the child going out alone
(having no other way to go)
down the long road through

the enchanted; the disenchanted forests,
the hamlets with their cosiness,
their ruby bedight hearths

from which you are barred

and so, sleep under the stars
and peek in bakery windows
coveting their mauve frosted cakes...

oh, when will I awake,
you say to yourself in the dream
and be lifted from this place

where they have all forsaken me?

and yet, you know
that something else is there,
making it all turn to gold,

invisible as air
and keeps you
like a secret house

with lilacs at the door

in an unknown country
far, far from care and
from having to implore

(when you have had enough of this)

before perfect strangers:
where- where- in all these mists
is the hidden door?

mary angela douglas 10 june 2016