it wasn't the doll like certainty of the bride, the bride doll
I sought from You, Lord.
but only to know the Father of the
Light inside and glide through tempests.
it wasn't a doll like certainty veiled,
feted adorned with life-like flowers
for which I cried.
why would I when
You have given all the stars
without being asked.
and your flowering floats snowlike
from winter skies
and each springtide
petaled numberless and fragrant
beyond the heart's capacity
to abide..such beauty is.
it isn't the doll-like shine I missed
orange blossomed extravaganzas and
the mythical weddings guests
how could I when.
only one gleam of your
Christmas
sustained me-
one sparkle that sent-
the Magi on their way
mary angela douglas 6 december 2013; 21 october 2023
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