I Face Today

the tinkertoy, the cone shaped fir  along the track
the lincoln log oh all of that a few game pieces strewn
I remember from a childhood room

and if I were my own fairy godmother still
a wand I'd wave and recreate them at my at my will
into some vast architectural wonder

where I'd live and suffer no ills or thunder
no cherry faked out medicines
no sugar pills

and most of all, no bills.
from small magic acorns oaks will grow
or beanstalks glittering row on row

ah zirconium...

perhaps a ship on which I'd stow myself

a few silk dresses from a dream
culled from some wayward closet;
from first light until now:

all that music has endowed

but oh that Spring has disappeared
the schillings wrapped in gold,
oh chocolate

but not with those the remnant fears,
the sudden bouquets of white roses, tulips
lily of the valley sprays

the still odd moments aggravating tears not praise
and tears in the paper where once I wrote

inaccurately of stars spoken into light
or is it the other way around
how do I know am I queen of the Lost and Found

who only kept a few small charms in disarray
in jewelbox velour and out of the way
to meet the exigencies they say:
I face today.

mary angela douglas 11 january 2020