And when the fatal breath expels
and all is quiet, will you remember me
Bright as an orange bloom
with my words locked inside
A poem inspiring eternity
or will my essence shrivel
Be lost – like dust particles
exposed in afternoon sunbeams?
(Image my own.)
Can’t take responsibility
for what gets laundered here
my vehicle has no steering wheel
I am merely seeking understanding –
comfort, like support shoes –
and I get flack, indifference
slapping me in the face.
Why did I put myself in this position –
revert back to old ways, think
I was destined for anything
but penniless devotion –
should have been a nun.
(Image from personal collection.)
One Woman's Quest 