Thereby Turning The Hours Of Straw To Gold

your head full of clouds you venture out
with your roseate attitude intact
and find the footprints, tracks

of those who went before.
imagination's heralds
bit by bit you learn

for the most part
no one wants to talk about literature
and if they do,

it's mostly to put you down.
like Mary you ponder it in your heart.
the castles come back to the landscape

all flags flying.
you spend your money on books
thereby turning the hours of straw

to gold
so much so
they can't understand

why yelling doesn't work with you.
so prisoners found in gulag's cold
the uses of imagination

and now in growing old a lesser
chore than their's by far
I find it helps

to have at hand
a crystal stair or two
and more besides

a treasure trove of lore inside
only I explore.
(the way I do).

mary angela douglas 6 december 2017