children looking like angels
half grown up
trying to find their way through the muck
holding aloft only one of each thing
I wish them cloud cover
when the sun scorches
the brilliance off the waters
I wish them days that cannot tarnish
fresh gingerbread
a gift for turning mourning to dancing
sorrow to apples and honey
spinning and then standing still
emblazoned, the memory of Home.
quietness.
beauty. on loan.
mary angela douglas 11 july 2023
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