Otherwise

were we the sailors on the seas of laments
perhaps we wondered in the afterlife of smiles
of the new grass green

new blossoms not that hardy in the snows
all we know, she sighed
so small it could fit into a fairy tale's thimble

who will dissemble
before the little children
I used to think

now I know.
little flowers in the snow
I dream of you sometimes

and pray it was God that plucked you out.
let philosophers dream the earth as mirage
the children know through tears so often,

otherwise

mary angela douglas 28 september 2018