Let my exit be that of poetry

Let my last breath frost the air
Let the memory of my life
be that of  silent simile
and ethereal metaphor
Spoken with soft words
In tranquile meadows
Between close friends
And lustful lovers

Inspired by a line in the poem, The Stuff of Pleasant Fiction by Whispers of Consciousness.

 

P.I.M.P.

~ by An Imperfect Servant on 08/04/2009.