DINING ON CHERRY CHINA WITH A ROSE OVERLAY

for Raggedy Ann, best of dolls…and for my sister, Sharon wherever she may be…
best regards!

dining on
cherry china
under the trees
the children in the picture book remained at ease
while we made Storybook Plans…and over-mixed our Fizzies-
eight flavors at a time
and wondered why we had no customers…
for the inky drink no longer tasting of root beer black cherry lime…
or anything- anymore- ever…
never mind, we’ll drink our Cherry Sparkle down
like Lilibet and Margaret Rose
and we'll be dressed in pink and blue
velveteen and sing for them…
something else that we made up…
I’ll wear my fern green velvet with the
peach cummerbund
said a Cinderella sister, changing her
mind.


or maybe the plum…with your best caramel slippers…
she said, almost meltingly
we’ll have cake with apple-blossom
on top in case we run out of icing-
and start collecting orange crates early tomorrow
for the house we’ll someday live in
when we’re grown, cobbled by
hidden elf-help while we dream
who’ll paint and repaint it when it rains


pale pink and green
with the Prang watercolors -
or paint-by-number sets used sparingly after Christmas-
we’ll leave them out in the open
so they’ll know…

and we’ll survive near the Slip-and-Slide
eating how many day-old donuts
dipped in snow,
said Raggedy Ann, with
powdered sugar on her nose.

she’s gotten good at making up word problems
with no possible solution…
at appropriate moments in the conversation
how many chocolate eclairs
should you eat
while listening to Clair de Lune?
I asked to see what she would answer
and we played "Name That Tune"
and where do you see yourself

five years from noon:
face down in clover, flung there by the Dog?
(it’s a trick question, when we’re playing School
or wondering if we’ll all get jobs in the ice-cream soda
shoppes later on,
taking home what can’t be sold -
on very strawberry evenings…)

she never told about the five year plan
for finding our own playhouse in the woods.
but Raggedy beamed her
maraschino smile-she understood:
never making us feel we'd said The Wrong Thing-
she was strong, that way

though she almost wore her cloth-made doll hands out
the day she clapped and clapped for
Tinkerbell to get well on that old record
when the needle got stuck on…’if you believe in magic,
clap your hands…”
-poor thing!

and was taken to the doll hospital quite suddenly, for exhaustion
where she drank only nasturtium milk-shakes for a month
(the orange kind)
creamsicles, really so frothy and so cooling
and read free comic books,
the lucky thing.
you should have seen the word problems once she
got back…!
tres intricate,
but then, she never grades…

which leaves more Time for the lemonade shade
and wears quite charmingly that same dress anywhere
even while helping you with that over-inflated book report on
Rosa Bonheur-
though she wouldn’t mind eating lemon drops in a frock
of pale yellow seersucker…or sunny batiste, just once
our Raggedy...
(but she can’t spell that yet)

she knows the importance of Matching…
she’d have to change those candy-cane socks,
though, not to clash…and wear a tan head-band.
possibly, Tweed perfume.
“Pure Cake Vanilla!” countered Raggedy Ann,
“And taffy apple accessories, if you please!”

while she can’t open a single jar
of maraschinos When Ice Cream Comes-
or a can of corned-beef hash
without breaking off the key-
delaying lunch by several hours-
while the Army’s called in
to bust the can wide open…
(so we won’t be stuck
eating jelly-beans all day-)

no one could see more flawlessly
that cloud of marshmallow fluff by the sticky steeple
through steadfast shoe-button Christmasy eyes:
she’s her own Christmas card:
anytime
which saves on postage...

“blue taffeta, with a rose overlay,” my sister
filmily decides – this one’s for Cinderella-
if you tell me one more story from The
Twilight Zone, I’ll die:
Spooky Silence Sets In…
But we’re contented with cherry china
or going faster on our chores
pretending that Dorothy's cyclone
will get us if we don't
(this really worked)

and freed up our Saturdays!
while the trees are changing colors for Raggedy Ann,
who’s staring straight ahead
into the future:
waltzing in striped lemon-seersucker
teaching us how to manage in quick-sand
on the living room carpet
after reading that useful article in
Reader's Digest...
or lopsided in the grass – lost happily

among the apple-blossom drifts and reading paperbacks
four- at- a- time from scholastic book services
really fast
quite focused, really
or onstage, in an emerald tutu
and garnet Capezios-
still candy-hearted, well-behaved-
but wobbly,
even with yarn red hair
who cares?

she dances everywhere-
even flopped down beside the Bumble Bees, one trillion ant hills-
and that green ball coated in dog-slobber…
so near and yet so far from the butter-rum Life Saver

on the Sidewalk…
either way you tell it, she can only love you and keep smiling.
and isn’t that what matters in a story?

(coda):
I make my poem to honor her
in cross-stitched cotton constancy
pink-sprigged…with bluebirds by the lemonade springs-
(and a few flounces, neither here - nor there –)
for all Dear Readers, Everywhere…
and for my sister, musically rare:
this cotton candy made of air…

held out to you in a star-shaped cone
to let you know, you're not alone.
mary angela douglas 18-20 march 2012;3june 2021


to my sister Sharon, with love and gratitude for all our days of play that were so magical.