CHAMOMILLE

I cant watch stars or planets

sinking into the gloom

but I can

remember who I am

even in my room

make starlight too

I cant depend on so much

that once was well in view

but in my room

I can imagine

all the things I used to feel when flowers bloomed

and church bells pealed and I was younger than a star

could be

I cant walk freely under the moon

or ride the trolley from morning to noon

or wear the dress from the 19th century

on a lawn of chamomille

but I remember as if it were new

every feeling  that ever I knew

and spring decks out my heart

in wintertime

just by making rhymes.

mary angela douglas 4 january 2023