Final Dream
by William H. Graffius from Watching the Wind Blow By
The gleam of sunlight on fresh fallen snow
conceals a lone broken syringe
at my frozen feet.
Ironic imagery, I think, for
seven years lost in alternating
pleasure and pain,
eventually numbness.
Even the bite of winter wind
fails to break through
and the blurring world becomes
A fantastic kaleidoscope of color
And light.
Across the park the old woman
feeds bits of burnt toast to the pigeons.
Death, albeit belated, has finally come
I think, for me, and I hope
I do not startle her in her daily
life giving ritual
as I sink into my final dream.
2 comments:
Wow! I really love this poem! I can see the picture so clearly! Really deep and painful, but so open!
I, too, obsess about the punctuation and line breaks. I write the poem as I want it to be heard, then I remove the punctuation, change the line breaks, and try spacing into stanzas. I agonize over this and always wonder if it should have been different after all.
Sightline Payments Kirk Sanfordonline casino
Post a Comment