let's start again
turning the crystal page of the wind
holding the ederberry summer in a thimble
breathing in and out with the leaves.
there will be mint and eglantine
as in the finer poems, the stories that unwind
from brightly coloured spools
whenever you're not in school
dreams will pass as if they were clouds
more slowly overhead
we will be in the music and not lose our place
no longer suffering in the great the meaningless race
toward a horizon never the same orange twice
I will drift as if on ice floes
to a kingdom nobody knows
we will be magic again.
and blend in with the roses and the hyacinths
and in odd, silver hours
be happily mistaken for flowers.
mary angela douglas 7 april 2021
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