butterfly wings fan her
as she sun bathes
under the shade
of a mulberry with molasses scabs
the cranberry in her cooler
as red as her velvet blanket
and the lace around her neck…
well, best not measure carats with a ruler
a paperback in hand
she flips through the pages
and reads the story of her life
to the bitter end
© Heath Muchena
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem