and though the looking glass hours should turn to snow,
you will not regret the things you knew then, long ago,
when the Guardians of roses stood:
edged flame to flame
and you were unaware
of those turned out of the Garden because, everywhere,
it was still snowing flowers
mary angela douglas 24 june 2014
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem