sometimes though I dont know why
there is a secret happiness inside
welling up under all blue moons
suddenly, while you are at a window
absentmindedly twining your hair
the least strands of gold filter through
surprising you so that you say
what is this, is there something that I missed
some beauty rare has left its shadow on the stair
or just as I round the corner walking home
I find that I am not alone where small pools turn to
momentary brooks after the rain, gurgling
over the pavements
as if Im a child again
and know that Christmas is up ahead
even though I cant tell time yet.
mary angela douglas 24 august 2019
No comments:
Post a Comment