she had a heart like confetti glass
a something silver unsurpassed
the brightness of a cherry branch
a kind of resolute dreaminess
I see her castle soft as pearl
deconstructed in a stupid world
the signet ring she always wore
when calling never ship to shore
consigned to live among the dead
to a vast silence truly wed
a valentine beyond duress
and not a rose. pressed in a book.
mary angela douglas 21 february 2022
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