Sea pearls in my frail hands
Strawberry gold in my glass coffin
Champagne with still sparkle
A sweet love will exist
Obscure graffiti will continue to paint firefly nights
My stained glass eyes would soon be forgotten
Neon ghosts would speak out loud
Wild flowers and moon shadows
Frosty nights, sugar wildflower carnivals with still have rides
Magnolias will shimmer with pride
Some may bleed and go slowly
Watercolors of purple ice will waltz with the honey flies
The winds will bellow with urgency
Draw the curtains of the dark hued winds  
A dusk house of earths yarn
Hanging on by fingertips does not slow the *****
The fog straggles will push and pull
Our stories will remain on the walls
Its not the years its what is left behind
Where all so much more than we know
When that strength begins to fog  
Crackling flowers will adequately grow
Earth will yawn with a calling to come home
So many secrets we are frankly to tired to spill
At times the sweetness and zest is excused
Forest rose shells await
A true beauty of life is found
Death does not strip away your spirit
Honey dew smells invade your nose
Star filled nights may feel like stones in your throat
I see slices of you in the pane of my own essence
I will shield you as you retreat  into the dimness