a skirmish of leaves and then
old playmates fade from view
their tiny candles blinking out
on a cake of snow. all jettisoned!
and you'll refactor all, you know,
where the katydid winds pick up;
glazing the kites where they sailed into Infinity
or into Charlie Brown's cartoon tree,
made of brown paper by a grandfather-
twined, to a pale green long-ago.
and do we have far to go with
our Sunday school pocketbooks?
white straw, cherries sewn on
in this my thousandth song
of the purple shadows
on the varnished floors?
said I, who tried so many doors-
and survived by just pretending
to go through, who will try to
tell you who won't know what I mean
how quickly tears could dry in the winds
that shines so with departed friends
I know I know a voice glides from the long ago,
where lilacs blow.
mary angela douglas 15 january 2016
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem