On my last leg
Rotting away and nearly severed
From the stalk, I ponder
On my flesh’s final fate
I brood, heavy of heart
For terribly shall I miss
Its sweet fragrance, the flower
Its first clumsy steps, the nanny’s kid
Its deafening roar, the mighty thunder
Its cool caress, the gentle breeze
For these I struggle to remain
But woe is me for I must pass on
On my last leg
Soaked with sweat
Ghosts of past sins
Taunt me with glee
Penance for a frosty heart, I plead
Then music, not heard but felt
Seeping through withered flesh
Calms my guilt-ridden heart
In amnesiac bliss, i bask
Music felt, not heard
Yet serenading me
With a queer kind of resonance
On my last leg
I smile, as i feel no more
I smile, for it has dulled my pains
I smile at my stiff fingers
Separated from me
Slowly scribbling on
I smile as
My lids
Gain weight
Then
I . . .
