Daughters

She will stand in the goodbye sky
and laugh with the flowers, watch
her daughters mist into rainbow
scarves, melding colour into
citadels that peak over the hedge
of Time.

 

Those daughters, with invisible
touch, slowly spinning like
dice in a cup, they will
the love of sailors into seas,
and draw the dragons out from
dusty pages. 
 
 

Drop little curtsies to the high-up,
eyes caste in cloud of years,
propped on pillows, golden
sun ,molten skin, soft
as avocado...

 

Daughters sing to her,
with teardrop voices,
a goodbye song:
 the sky.