Poem To Sharon, Through The Looking Glass Of Time

to my sister, Sharon F. Douglas


we'll write on the snow in cloud languages
no one will know the poets were here
that someone pushed the swings from behind

so that we landed in different countries
that's where the angels snowdrift through red roofs
or through the yellow skyscrapers

on a blue background
as though you said
as though they were sistines.

we wanted a ceiling of roses
bearing down hard on our old crayons
red and pink, occasional blue green leaves

rococo as the day is long, we laughed.
rococo sipping cocoa.

I pack them up with my tears
remembering sad years,
seraphic, your piano.

its silver blue plink plink.
the rain falling on taffeta.
she plays the music of the spheres

I cried in assembly
no one believed me.

we went on from year to year
surviving adjoining kingdoms
the mustard coloured jester popping out
from the jack in the box of our worst dreams

you wrote on a postcard
in pink ink perhaps from Siena
around the world scenes in our paste them in books

the pines are too beautiful to live on here

let's turn them into far
green angels

mary angela douglas 10 october 2018