then we wore paper crowns
and gipsy dresses
but we were clear as sunlight
or the honeycomb
and sang our carols restlessly
opening the gift of Song
I remember the pine cones painted gold
how happy the ruffles on the skirts made me
and the small vests that could have been embroidered with roses
when left to the imagination
what are you on about I hear the rumbling crowd
only reminiscing a little aloud, alone in the lemon room
God led me to
where it is possible to embroider one's life endlessly
and the laughing soul.
mary angela douglas 21 september 2021
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