"must the water rhyme with the sun," I wandered by
the streams that run humming to myself, "at the
end of every line?" because a friend had scorned
a slighted music in my mind. from heavenly harmony
a poet wrote so long ago yet green is the branch
when it comes to mind how can I help it if
my words chime like a hidden shining ladder strung
rung to rung within the lines like the water rhyming
with the sun? the rose that blossoms
into the colour: red each time
and still, astonishes
mary angela douglas 9 january 2015
