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Monday, June 17, 2019

As Her Light Dimmed




She left me; 
hand cupped for more,
ready to accept her departure
with tearful streams
and gentle nudges

 yet,

 my time never
caressed her dying fingers
nor ran my own through
thinning hair
as her light dimmed,

 faded into 
morphine-blurred moments
before she slipped away 
without thought.

 Perhaps it was best.

 I miss her.


© Pamela A. Lamppa
April 2019
All rights reserved
Posted by at No comments:

Accent Lines




I peeled the breath
of fifty nine years
from the sheer layer
of life left stagnant 
above my upper lip.

 It felt a bit raw
as I tossed your 
frayed tooth brush
in the trash -

 hesitated only once
          
before blending cream and
Italian fragrance 
on my neck and breasts.

 I'd be damned if
I let lines accent
anything but brilliance.






 © Pamela A. Lamppa
April 2019
All rights reserved
Posted by at No comments:
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