this won't be remembered, perhaps you said
inscribing it in your book of snow
or tying it up in your cherry kerchief
where the peach winds blow
and the castle is near at hand.
it's near at hand and burns like
crystal in a night blind land
or etched on sea foam.
but how would you know-
you, with so far to go.
you, with your book of snow.
mary angela douglas 23 september 2016