You are my gold
the honeycomb of light
the purple deep down the darkness
the majesty of quiet
the Rose of time
the chimes on the wind
when I am out walking
into distances unseen and incandescent
and all my let's pretend made real.
the sum of all I feel
the brilliant ore
that can't be mined
my only, only Valentine
the incipient shore
where fitfully I rest, will rest
while I adore.
your child, at best.
what would I be
more?
mary angela douglas 5 november 2017
