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When I have left this earth

Dear beautiful upright flower,
your perfume sweet,
your elegance,
your grace,
your handsome face,
a mother reflected in the eyes.

A life,
a dreamed existence
and blazed with fiery colours,

sunrises have been seen,
the brighter sides of life,
now dwindling,
in the autumn of my birth,

not crying,
as my heart is full of mirth.

For now the time has come,
and I succumb,
to sorrows in my stem,
my leaf,
my flower looses turgor;

weakly fading
with the dying day,
I give my love to all
that paved my way
with joys,
with friendship.

And leave,

I hope,
with pleasant memories,
please do not grieve.

Last few words: 
You know!
Editing stage: 


are you alright?
biggest hugs

'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)

Tears. Can not write much after reading this. Heart strings connect. I love you. Beautiful. ALways with the best of pleasants and many wonderful memories..Magics Mona sad

Ann of Norway is always a feeling of your warm hug away.


A little too personal this. Well. I will not ask. You will share in other ways if you desire to do so.

I am always griped at because I insist on using my full vocabulary in everything I write, so it does my heart good to see you use the word "turgor" in an evocative and reasonable way. More power to language.

It is a beautiful, though haunting piece.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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I was writing as if I were describing and feeling like ... you know that.

I am well and revel in words like the bubbles in my bath still able to see, hear, and feel them burst like music in me ears, Wesley.

Thank you all, wish I were a millionaire and could fly to visit all of you. Ann.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

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