Poetry...

distillation of flowers perhaps,
of skies, of colours when
you can't remember their names

the pink gold flame tip of
the tulip trees when they bloom
the pink bluish hue of their

flower cups filled full with the crystals
of late snowa these things I know and knew
and other images too

red leaves falling in the afternoon
all from a single true one day in school
forever etched in time

the heart struck moments live again
if only in one phrase
the apex of your days the valleys too

past green and withering while the
birds sing madly losing light
as if they were you.

mary angela douglas 10 january 2018