if I cut out with my small scissors
paper dolls from the leaves left to me
will this comfort be
will this comfort last
or only a little while
or will I find a way to make
something else with the felt pens.
the remnants of toys
and the pinwheels that spin.
I promise never to think of this again.
to only remember the arch of the meteor's sky
over me when I cried.
mary angela douglas 7 march 2020
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem