Mending In Time

a magical compendium shone at you
through the bookstore glass
but you had no pocket money

and took the blue bus home
and cried alas
like the goose girl and her

words like glass

when the geese had scattered day
and she couldn't find the wayside
ladder for the golden apples

as now they have scattered the stars,
your purplest memories of home

as it was then,
the bookshelves tilting
end to end

the candy jars spilling

whenever the trucks rolled by.
and you still sigh for grace
when you wash your face

with the last of the almond soap
and still have hope
that wishes can be wanded

and then mended again so that
everything will turn out right in the end
the fall dress will be

finished in time
the crystal shoes with room to spare
if, like the poem,

the toes still keep on growing

mary angela douglas 6 august 2016