Friday, May 24, 2013

My Perfect Death


Screen door bangs 
Bare toes on warm wood
Ease onto the metal rocker
Book and a glass of iced tea
Gentle knock of bamboo wind chimes
An occasional car, distant dog or lawnmower
Leaf rustle, bird twitter
Turn the pages, notice the pleasant
Weight of drowsiness
Eyes grow heavy, difficult to keep
Them open, and really there’s no need to,
There is no rush, may as well
Let them close for just
a little while

4 comments:

  1. This is a perfect poem. Thank you -- Elizabeth

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  2. Thank you so much! But nothing's perfect, you know. Even this death would be better with a couple of cookies.

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  3. Thank you, Seann, you made me laugh - a rare happening these days. Yes, a couple of cookies in hand, munching while crossing over (for some reason, right now, imagined as high-stepping over a short hedge, as into a neighboring yard). It gives me a light feeling, just what I need. -- Elizabeth

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  4. Sorry to hear you're experiencing a deficit of laughter lately. I hope that changes soon. I know how dear that light feeling is.

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