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My Last Days

I smell fresh coffee
and grieve its absence
before the event

I hear the dawn chorus
and grieve its absence
before the event

I taste ripe damsons
and grieve their absence
before the event

I see spiders webbing
and grieve their absence
before the event

I stroke your sprung curls
and grieve their absence
before the event

if I were realised
I’d celebrate life
until the event

Ceinwen Haydon

If you have any thoughts on this poem, Ceinwen Haydon  would be pleased to hear them.

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