in the books I want to read
the earth is carpeted with flowers. always.
my dreams are lined with cool and shaded moss
by living streams we are not troubled.
the clouds float as slowly as you want them to
holding each hue and then letting go
and when the world turns to snow
it's as if we all live in a glass globe
only lightly shaken
and every page is like coming home
and because I thought, I think this way
some called me slow, of little significance
what do I care.
the books I read I could live in
i consider them the maps
reality should follow
and not the other way
turned inside out
could I ever truly live.
mary angela douglas 18 april 2018
the earth is carpeted with flowers. always.
my dreams are lined with cool and shaded moss
by living streams we are not troubled.
the clouds float as slowly as you want them to
holding each hue and then letting go
and when the world turns to snow
it's as if we all live in a glass globe
only lightly shaken
and every page is like coming home
and because I thought, I think this way
some called me slow, of little significance
what do I care.
the books I read I could live in
i consider them the maps
reality should follow
and not the other way
turned inside out
could I ever truly live.
mary angela douglas 18 april 2018
