as I was rearranging my colour form stick on furniture
in the castle I looked out into a one dimensional sky
when suddenly I espied
10,000 silver pennants flying
and the mounted tin soldiers
the cavalry coming to save me
from the mistake of the chartreuse
sofa with the fuchsia pillow
stuck next to the moroccan leather bound
with ribbon markers
doll sized Great Books
because
I could not peel them off the primary coloured shelves.
let the moonrise be buttery lemon
rising over a fish stick dinner
with tartar sauce aplenty
I wont be lost ever
among the playthings
bought at cost
for I am the toyshop of Memory
like Ray Bradbury
and can illuminate the sanctuaries
lilies and all with thankfulness
with one small lime lollipop prayer
and a faint butterfly fluttering hope the Lord God
loves stories that are brave and cheerful.
and rococo beyond belief,
added my sister, sipping her wry cocoa
in which pink frosted barnum's animal crackers
were gently capsizing
having struck the marshmallow
barrier reefs quite by accident.
mary angela douglas 17 september 2023
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem