The Dolls In The Dollhouse Dream Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

we will paste stars on the ceilings
and call this Heaven or
stare pointedly at the children

wishing they would until it happens
and then, paper angels will come down
and the lights will go on by themselves

the oil lamps in the parlour with no oil
and we will think 'miracle' trying very hard
to let someone know we are grateful

and be placed around the convincing piano
with the hinge and the little stool that twirls
and silently sing

while the paper angels flutter and where
the scisors slipped, very large snowflakes
will cover us

and we will know then with 5 golden rings
it is Christmas
and there is a King.

mary angela douglas 26 january 2016