morning glories, morning's vine
why, for you, should I repine
when morning's glory elsewhere shines.
I numbered you among my friends
but when I turned around again
your magic vanished
purples closed, and then departed
springtime's golds, and tangerines
and pink ones too.
what, oh what
became of you.
I thought you chimed but I was new
to how time closes,
flowers fade.
and how the roses melt to shade.
childhood's first goodbyes are hard
the flowers in a small backyard
and birdsong alters, while the trees
shed ochre tears on slightest breeze.
still will I keep your pictures bright
and not dispose myself toward night
remembering how I loved you then
and danced, like you, in every wind.
mary angela douglas 1 may 2018
why, for you, should I repine
when morning's glory elsewhere shines.
I numbered you among my friends
but when I turned around again
your magic vanished
purples closed, and then departed
springtime's golds, and tangerines
and pink ones too.
what, oh what
became of you.
I thought you chimed but I was new
to how time closes,
flowers fade.
and how the roses melt to shade.
childhood's first goodbyes are hard
the flowers in a small backyard
and birdsong alters, while the trees
shed ochre tears on slightest breeze.
still will I keep your pictures bright
and not dispose myself toward night
remembering how I loved you then
and danced, like you, in every wind.
mary angela douglas 1 may 2018
