On the day that I died
heaven gave me
an ostentatious room
seeping with forgotten vanity
gold-leaf skies and mirrors
upon mirrors, upon mirrors
sparking chandeliers
that constantly blinked
in morse code
the floor was so polished
that both my reflection and I
could easily drown in it
angels took my orders
like trained waiters
in heaven’s finest etiquette
I wore a dress
made of moonlight
and it was everything
that anyone would wish for
but I was always lonely
and even my own reflection
seemed embarrassed to see me
so, I peeled away
the marks of vanity
shook the moonbeams
from my hair
and asked to see a simple room
with dirt floors
and uncut flowers
humble and quiet
and where everyone
was always welcome and loved
© Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 