It Grows Dim For The Astronauts

reading the angel bells on the wind,
the friends who have gone-
will you be staying for awhile,

or not for long?
tea leaves break in the cup
and the cup breaks too;

mirrors turn inward,
do they reflect
the pear ripe time

of you?
who will you be when the winds have gone
and the clouds are standing still;

what will you feel
as the light ticks down
and the train tracks stand revealed?

who is there even left to say
what you should take 
when going away;

or even, how you should pack?
I chose a summer dress to wear
but a spring wind at my back.

you with no kerchief waving goodbye;
you, who look on with a jaundiced eye
(as was said in sentimental novels)-

what will you do when it's chimed away-
the dream that you thought
would be today's some say

grows dim,
upon leaving earth...

mary angela douglas 29 july 2016