and sometimes who could tell the difference
out in the sunshine munching the strawberries
next thing you know
your voice of crystal disappears
into intervening years
the sheep before dreams
forget to get counted.
what will happen on the job tomorrow
you arent sewing a fine seam
as was predicted in the cloud days
every summer by our Grandmorher.
music gets younger inside you anyway
filling your dance card up with sonatinas.
I know the willows abide.
the bubbles you blew into the horizons
the baby piano's chime.
the moon gets nearer, all the time.
the moon gets nearer, all the time.
mary angela douglas 3 january 2020
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