a blue sun painted on a large piece of paper
surprised itself in mirrors, starting to melt
oh don't be candles sighed the child
afraid of asking for more paper-
it's no one's birthday yet-
but it was. the blue sun thought.
I've just appeared and what is shining
for
the blue sun shone, a little uncertainly at first, 
colouring the blue waters bluer, if it were possible, 
in the small pools where the babies waded; 
making them stand still in the purple ripples
fingers in their cherry mouths, 
lost in the blueness.
your first daydream! 
cried their mothers.
on cue, the babies found first words: 
blue sun! they cried lifting their hands as if to
be picked up by deep turquoise, dripping, 
shy before hyacinths-
in early spring
mary angela douglas 19 june 2014                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    