Tickets bought,

bags packed,

clothes for hot,

some for not.

A tiny star flower

in the lapel,

wing tipped shoes

to impel.

A red pleated dress-

a jet stream sail,

fins and wiggles

in its tail,

five sharp clasps

with gold rings,

to pick up forbidden things.

.

Tickets bought,

bags to pack,

on a trip of grief

for what I'll lack.

Phoenix's fire at dinners,

and dances, sensuous breaths

of trysts and romances.

Swirls that smoothed tears' sharp tang,

smiles in silence when Sinatra sang.

Oh, the dear that shared my muse and blues,

along with cookies at high tea -we must

embrace no more my love, for, I have COPD.

04/08/2005