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Another Life from Slow Poison by Casimir Greenfield

The tender field grasses lay in folds of gauze,
the roots and mosses lay damp,
in aquarelle arrangements in the slipper box,
so small, so perfect for our treasures.

The berry tips lay hard and green,
royal thorns adorning velvet skin. 

I will impart the prize of immortality, an eternity of two-dimensioned artifice.

My charcoal meditations will live long after the berries have rotted away.”

I like your sounds and your imagery.

I will impart the prize of immortality, an eternity of two-dimensioned artifice.

That should be the signature slogan of all paint and sketch artists!

A very fine poem. My compliments!