beautiful imagination I have come to call
can we have pink cakes today with silver icing?
it's dreary winter outside and many people who like it that way
live to complain turning the slush to rain.
I was hoping you'd be home
put on the gramaphone
we'll play Anna Moffo and glass record songs
clear shimmerings of Debussy
and libretti made of gold foil stars
and eat tons of spaghetti
and wish on stars nobody's even named yet
and paint in colors of the firmament
and I won't forget you ever
not in the coldest weather
can I come back sometimes?
and do you like my rhymes.
thanks. it's been lovely.
when I come back maybe we'll pick bluebells
and make gingerbread, music, without the measures
and feed at our leisure, the immortal birds of song.
mary angela douglas 29 july 2021
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