Sunday Morning Poetry

THIS MORNING
On this day you would find

a soft package of stars

wrapped in sky, a ribboned tie

made of cloud, and a piece

of joy for your heart,

and they would fit perfectly

in the palm of your small hand;

but because I am simply your grand

(mother) and not capable of magic,

you will find toy teapots, blue marbles,

chocolate bells and sugared trees –

baby dolls and spy pens.

But I will find a way (don’t ever doubt)

to hide keys that open treasures;

you will find them scattered, like crumbs,

even when you are alone. Especially

when you are alone. I give you these

because I can, because I will, and that is why.

Because I do not own the stars.

And they were out of sky.

                © 2011 Rebecca Kai Dotlich.