Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Droplets on the Coffin


As the light rain falls,
Saturated hair clings to my face.
Rain ...tears become one.
Droplets intermingle on the surface
Of the cherry oak coffin.
A banal breeze blows through:
Smelling of sodden air.

I Listen to the pitter-pat of droplets
Splashing on the surface.
My feet rustle the wet leaves
As I reach out to touch
The coffin's perfection of symmetry
Which harbors the vessel
Of a woman so complete.

Her ashen face
Adorned in false paint.
Cherry lips dulled
To shades of mauve.
Remote reflection
of her past.

Surrounded by sweet aromas.
Her hands like fine sand
Worn from years of erosion.
In her arms,
Affection stretched like the horizon.
Twice as warm as the sun

But now the sun sets;
The clouds enfold her
As droplets descend
Upon my face.

Poem Copyright © 1997 A.M.J.M.

Photo Credit: Death Valley by Simonsun08

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