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| Photo by Julia Volk from Pexels |
This poem was inspired by Last Words, a poem by Rita Dove.
I don't want to live on a page
Of fiction and bliss
With feet sunk in pink sand
Comparing Essie's talk to the sand
I don't want to soak and bathe
In a clawfoot tub, Moroccan rose oil
Floating rose petals, Santal 26 candle burning
Sipping Angel Champagne, in a daydream
Some may think this is all too much
Or maybe not enough
This is my Lamborghini
This is my version of a Hermes Kelly
I don't want to tiptoe across cold floors
To feel the sense under bare feet, when manifesting
Monogram floors, in my walk-in closet
In a luxury condo on the 22nd floor
Let my wishes come true, from a vision board
Plant them into my reality, clear the smoke
From blown out candles, let it be gifted to me
By our Father
Now that's a good life.
What nonsense do you speak of my child
I've got greater plans for you
I've written them all down.