Respiration
I feel my life through your eyes
A breath, perhaps of scented air,
My death a gentle melancholic sigh
In forlorn reflection of days with but
Contentment recollected, that now
Draw not to these times nigh.
Ah, you hold the air within
Your fluttering chest, your
Vivid eyes upon my face have come
To rest, and fair upon your breast
My head now gently lies, and
Stroking my back your hand, so frail,
Slowly slides, streaking, down my side,
Falling still upon the bed as a flower
In all its color, the petals spread in a
Sweeping, vibrant bloom. Pale, the light
From the window is calling to me, and
Now all motion quietly subsides, as
You gently, happily exhale.
A breath, perhaps of scented air,
My death a gentle melancholic sigh
In forlorn reflection of days with but
Contentment recollected, that now
Draw not to these times nigh.
Ah, you hold the air within
Your fluttering chest, your
Vivid eyes upon my face have come
To rest, and fair upon your breast
My head now gently lies, and
Stroking my back your hand, so frail,
Slowly slides, streaking, down my side,
Falling still upon the bed as a flower
In all its color, the petals spread in a
Sweeping, vibrant bloom. Pale, the light
From the window is calling to me, and
Now all motion quietly subsides, as
You gently, happily exhale.