in my own time
not in my time
the sequinned rigging of the stars
and cast away farther than the mind
ghost ships, in the snows of
where we no longer wait
for the Rose of all roses
so we have gathered to the heart
the bridal finery that disappears
in contravening years
and stood at the docks until
there was no more light to see by.
there was no more sea.
mary angela douglas 17 december 2016