who dreamed of the repatriation of the stars
of the cloud sheep in apricot
softly harried in
of the quilted earth from space
in the midst of angelic snows
I did said the rose
or the rosebud, for a little while
child go back to sleep chirruped the sparrows
we have all left somewhere
the breadcrumb trail still shines
over the moonlight bridges
and the Christmas chimes
we have all left somewhere
and folded the maps so carelessly
into our best dream pockets
lined with green silk.
mary angela douglas 18 august 2023
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