being new to schooling
we thought we would always be
April's tiptoe daughters
on the verge of spring
why shouldnt the starrise
be for us always
we knew little but the colour
of the leaves how they launched
from pale green
into the mist, the rain.
what was pain
but a twisted ankle
in a crystal shoe
the news from home
when you were at school
a shadow on the wall where flowers clung.
I will be writing this
many light years from you
my insistent soul
but you don't know that now.
mary angela douglas 21 september 2019
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