Would you have me
a guest at my funeral?
Smiling from the top of
my rain bowed battlement.
Scavengers and ravagers kissing
in mock, the hem of my gown amidst
a thread of tangled vines.
Death does not live in the taste of
a sweetened red cherry.
Do you think, everything here – is alive
should demise be kept in reserve.
So that I may grace your trodden steps
anoint your fevered brow.
Party’s end – now must come the time
Even those whose candles once met in
the middle bright –
must take their final curtain call.
Ask me where I have been, if you care
for then I shall reply – here and there
plus no where at all.
I have never been in – love.
Who, I ponder to enquire will remember my name
once the tide has washed the shingle bare.
I am frozen faced by the coldness
of the heart.
Something of yesterday –
clings to today.
Empty mirrors why do they always stare
back at me.
This apple she has already fallen far –
Expect, no season’s – windfall here…
Poppy May 2013 ~xx~