Dream Flowers and A Pen in My Hand

I am making a book of poems I’ve read in Dream Flowers 
by May Ziadeh.
I felt I’d like to draw some flowers and clouds and mist.
It is her
 first book 
of poems
published under the penname,
Isis Copia
You beautiful Silver Wing
Thrilling life, your name,
Little child?
“My name is Lilie
For near a beautiful Lilac 
(Spring Harvest)
In the garden there,
My mother left me.”
“Lilie, well! And you
Fine-legged boy
Black-eyed and sharp?”
“Me? You want my name?
Guess. It’s a nice name.
But I had it on the sly
Little Father is Finch
And my Mummy Fauvette.”
“And you, my two little ones
Who are you?”
“We are two friends
Our story is understood.”
I am writing them in English using an online translator from the original French and any of my own understanding. 

These poems feel familiar, although I haven’t read any of them before, like a long forgotten memory drawing near.

Earlier today: A Poem Drapes Over My Shoulder
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