You Would Wear Pale Yellow

for Sharon, my sister

you would wear pale yellow
and all would be silk
and we would always 

drink our milk
and listen for chimes
for bells that rhyme

going up and down the scales.
for ice cream sales
for the gold stars showered

on the page we learned.
life could be that way
the drawing of the rose drapes

in the afternoon
because the studio light
is infinitely bright

and Grandmother plays the piano
on more than St. Cecilia's day
when Mama comes to stay

and white clover is thick all over the backyard.
how could Heaven not be this
grandfather under the lamplight

reading his newspaper
and we are all home.
I think of this sometimes now

whenever I'm alone how 
love, once lived, cannot disappear
except into God.

mary angela douglas 23 november 2019