THE LAST THING IT SEES

I wonder why I feel as helpless as an apricot in weighted sun, just blushing into softness. Or a red strawberry drawing powered sugar through paper straws. Sitting beneath a willow that somehow forgot to weep, the summer sun makes a thousand prisms wink in a blackened crow's petroleum coat. Feeling certain it must be time to leave, I begin to tuck my hackneyed thoughts neatly into a corner pocket, looking at the neat rows of petunias ready to be purple and white once more. And I wonder if what I've read is true.... that after death, the retina keeps a vivid print of the last thing it sees. ~~

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I believe everything seen or felt is part of us.
"And I wonder if what I've read is true....
that after death, the retina keeps a
vivid print of the last thing it sees."
We are visual creatures. The eyes would hold the last vision held. The poem made me wish to know and read more.Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote

[Miss Sharon]

It is interesting to me that you mentioned those lines made you wish to read more because I have been toying with the idea of expanding on the premise to write a longer story perhaps. You just may have given me the nudge I need! Thanks. ~Sharon

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome.