Every Road Seemed Shimmering Then

to my sister Sharon, again

every road seemed shimmering then
as though at the hub of some great diamond
the one sought by all the museums

and sought in vain.
and every eve, a fairy tale eve
and in the grey wardrobe stowed away

as if for glittering festivals not of this earth
cotillion dresses of velvet, brocade,
and pearls for graduation days

and ways.
your corsage was music
ever fragrant

from the convent practice rooms
or Grandmother's studio
redolent of rose perfumes and vintage sheet music

or up at Julliard that one time
while I was casting rhymes

and wanted to live in a gardenia garden
qw started saying reveries instead of dreams
influenced not a little by Debussy
and it all turned out so well

and so did we
no longer pigeon toed
in our saddle shoes

but in the beaded pinks or blues,
the cocktail chiffons
learning to waltz

to the kingdom comes
in between so many greens at once

the forest bred
on fairy dew fed

we were our own kaleidoscopes
or spinning like those pinwheels in the wind
or jacks on a summer porch

flung out into galaxies
oh who can say what we would be then
headed toward

the worlds without end.

mary angela douglas 9 july 2017