the picture book at the end of the world
stamped with the king's foil roses
I breathed in:
yes, they were all there what's counting for
if not to see-
with their petals rare in
the picture book at the end of the world.
I saw the house I knew was mine
with the lilac bush, pink peonies
a fence of moonlight over Time
and there in a dress of velvet cream
in love with the dawns by an old rope swing
my hand is pressed to my heart
remembering: this is all
the may-have-been of
the cherry, cherubic Valentine
of the picture book at the end.
on a page of snow
you'll fall asleep
and it's so quiet in the Deep
where someone, someone sings to you
in the picture book
oh, are we through?
cried tearful children wondering:
how far there was to go and,
is Christmas near?
two pages green and one of blue
my dear is all there's left for you.
for you-
and one that's pink
and full of stars
but we won't get that far today
my mother said shifting the
violet shadows; then-
the picture book at the end of the-
you know! tucking us in...
mary angela douglas 22,23 october 2014
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
full of stars, I like it, thanks.