I said but was it in vain?
the thread has unraveled from the
glittering cloud and there is no
"at last"; shall I remain?
how long then when
the ribbons of the sun have come
undone and all that gold is spilling
will I gather it again
tied with the lily bouquets
or sent to the well at evening's brink to
fetch the vanishing light you'll think of
unending night do not despair
I cried out oh, not alas
on the clouded glass.
mary angela douglas 7 june 2017