the clock will chime and you'll
remember what she said.
your dress will turn to sand;
your ribbands dissolving...
and criss-cross in the stars
you see your future, marred
and the diamond ships wavering.
it's time for walking home at
a fast pace leaving no trace
but you don't realize yet
(your heart is dazed)
one slipper still remains,
its own constellation
in plain view.
so drenched in evening dews
that even in rags, you'll
still sparkle,
vanishing from his sight;
oh, that you could take flight
from your own grieving;
singing, the world is sand
and the Hour glass, God;
forgetting a dream's
a bit opaque, at best.
but something at the gate's behest
gleams, try to understand... the rest!
says wait, oh wait, while from
the shimmering tree in the garden
slips mellifluously;
in gold array,
another day.
mary angela douglas 9 january 2016