Thumbelina On A Bad Day Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

one day you may wake up small
and you will wonder why
she may have fumed

on days when being tolerated as
rose fluff, violet leaf grew stale;
when floating from fern to fern edge

she thought really deep thoughts.
why should it matter that her
shadow fit into a thimble

and the ants down ant hill lane
thought of her as one of their own?
my poems cast tall shadows

in the rain

she sobbed into the
handkerchief of God.

mary angela douglas 18 august 2015