Debut

there can be no debut in the world of illusion

though your dress blends in with the evening skies

though when you glide into the garden the roses sigh

better it is to be a keeper of dreams than to spill pearl like

the actual milk across the floor of wounded moonlight and weep like  

a child for what cannot be

quietly quietly flee all these incessantly the bangers at the gates 

who will not let you be

to keep close quarters with the rose red geraniums guardian only of 

the window box flowers

I have thought for hours where do we live really;finally

not at any address once the first one passes away

where we learned to spell in stars

we live as the guests of God and it is His we are

inhabiting the realm whose glories are unseen.

mary angela douglas 4 october 2020