If I Were To Cease Poem by Charmaine Sinclair
If I Were To Cease
If I were to cease next morrow;
How many ages do I wonder,
pass before you happen
to realize such a morbid event?
Perhaps my breath has nigh expired
floating on still warm cheeks,
The air is hovering in the room
So near the touch of death.
Or I shall be in my best frock
decaying while you live.
All the while the bells do finally sing of
my reluctant departure.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/24/2024 9:00:42 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Perhaps my breath has nigh expired floating on still warm cheeks, ...............wonderful imagery, the very art of paints in colors, yet luscious scarlet across the dream, yet wrought ingenious by lucid flow....well penned,10+++, thanks for sharing.