As If We Could After All

[to my sister, Sharon F. Douglas]

we laughed when the clouds were wispy;
knowing they were called cirrus,
we adopted them

and drank pure limeade gladness
in the shine of our familiar trees.
will you go to sea later on

or last and last
without ever sailing forth
in your cherry best or

will you go North at some behest

confiding to old diaries
your fears about the expedition
or work downtown near the Library

and wear navy blue dresses
with little collars
or collect sand dollars

in lieu of cash
keeping your stash
of butterscotch well hidden

from the children and
their Halloweens...

life came to us unbidden
as our dreams
by the questions we never asked

but I like to look back
and consider these things
as if we could, after all,

start out, again.

this time, with wings.

mary angela douglas 7 august 2016