Margaret's fingers clasped and still
white birds upon her window sill
silent doves that came to rest
sleeping now upon her chest
each settled bird that came to land
will fly no more from Margaret’s hands

Margaret's hands are small and white
they will never hug her mother
or feel a lovers hand squeeze hers
never play piano like her sister Maud
or wear a wedding ring
not any of these things
Margaret's hands are marble still
each dove at rest upon her chest

People come
they bring mourning flowers
I don't know where the vases are
that was always your job
where did you put them
I cannot find them
not under the sink
or in the shed
they are lost
like you are
and I need them
because flowers are everywhere
and you are not

Not everyone can be a star
no matter how we wish for heavenly light
most of us will not illuminate the night
those who burn and seem so bright
will oft ignite and fall
burning cinders
merely human after all

Fate, I do not know your name
remove a star
shake it from the sky
like brightest rain
cover me in a glittered cloth
of night and fire and light
remove the dark
and let me be that spark
which sets the heavens all aflame

Rest in peace you gentle soul
your eyes which saw only truth
gave us the spirit of those who worked the land
a portrait penned with honest colour
painted as it was
and not how we would have it be

Darling clever Oscar Wilde
that Enfant terrible
a rebellious child
he was pretty
and very witty
and yes he was gay
it's a shame we couldn't accept him that way