Saturday, August 10, 2019

On The Piano (With Both Hands, Please)

I used to think we were like the paper flowers
that sprang open in the water dipped into a finger bowl
near my grandmother's sofa...

it was rosy afternoon

and someone was always on the piano.
make tunes that stay I prayed and prayed
but we sang swan songs every day

and dreamed ourselves into each ballet
dreaming we were to be.
we were to be; have we become that

no longer blowing bubbles through the small grey wands
or waltzing in our once upons in mint chiffon
I will try to say it clear

but I grow paler every year
and try to sing in stars
farther and farther away.

mary angela douglas 10 august 2019

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