>i. The dead woman wondering about nature:
Rivoli’s hummingbirds circle round
flowers searching for sweet nectar.
I stare between creased petals,
watching the sun rising from
behind a disintegrating building.
All hope seems blighted.
I have draped myself in muslin cloth to
shed my skin of yesterday. All juvenility is
replaced with worn out memories. But
the colourful birds still entrance me.
I move closer.
ii. More about the dead woman wondering about nature:
While I died with those thorns fastened
deep within my heart, I thought of nothing
but the beauty of the arts, as music played
from grand pianos and violins in a stream.
Syncopation runs rampant and furious.
I count the seconds on my wristwatch.
It seems they are moving backwards, so
I may wait a little longer. As an apparition
I can unite with the living one more time.
To savor the artistry of existing and
delighting in what surrounds me.