Remember me...?

George Tooker, self portrait

You look at me and think you know me,

but you know me not at all. 

I am your epiphany, a drawing of last breath.    

In death you will seek me out,

the half-remembered face as if clinging onto life..    

But I would say to you, think on this,

the scythe it swings for all

and I will have no memory of you.

Anna :o]

Inspired by The Mag and Real Toads and also entered at Poets United.   Many thanks to you all!

Fall

Frog jumps a solitary jump,

he pauses then

as if planning move from A to B,

then aimlessly he jumps again. 

Neath him lays a fall of autumn leaves,

all crisp and dry a brittleness.   In some, 

decay leaves naught but a skeleton of arid veins,

a remnant of a long lost summer.  

She sees all this and dwells on it,

dwells on death decay and indecision. 

(Then) black dog of night gives way to  mist of morn,

a hovering of almost calm,

and she decision made,

makes incisions cross her wrists

and bathes herself in blood red warmth,

she a remnant of a long lost summer.

Anna :o]

Shared with the good folk at dVerse OLN, today hosted by the most excellent Björn - cheers Björn!

Image:  Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Author: Randi Hausken