I sing of the jam-packed poem: toy chest, treasure chest at best
picnic basket filled to the brim with innumerable little pink cakes
thirst slaking lemonades, limeades, tangerineades,
lilac fans to fan with, costume jewelry and the rest
vintage costumes and gold fish coral reefs and the goldfish
themselves finning past their water logged pastel castles
out for a lark in the local park and everything that brings laughter
to the baby's rosebud lips is permissible, admisssible even when
the grownups
fall down laughing to impress I guess you could say you may as
well
I believe in wishing wells and never running out of wishes
and dressing in your Sunday best on Monday too
why wouldn't you
and holding up your end of joy
for the sake of all mankind and being kind and believing
in the sweet and not so secret
largesse of God who made so many stars.
mary angela douglas 4 september 2021
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