Morning Glory, Morning's Vine Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

morning glories, morning's vine
why, for you, should I repine
when morning's glory elsewhere shines.


I numbered you among my friends
but when I turned around again
your magic vanished

purples closed, and then departed
springtime's golds, and tangerines
and pink ones too.

what, oh what
became of you.


I thought you chimed but I was new
to how time closes,
flowers fade.

and how the roses melt to shade.

childhood's first goodbyes are hard
the flowers in a small backyard
and birdsong alters, while the trees

shed ochre tears on slightest breeze.
still will I keep your pictures bright
and not dispose myself toward night

remembering how I loved you then
and danced, like you, in every wind.


mary angela douglas 1 may 2018