The Ice Rose
My crippled hands hold the sculpture
cold, melting
reflective of a life well lived
Fingers drenched in it's calming water
chilling, surrounded
letting memories simply fade away
Colored ice petals slowly disappear
relaxing, infusing
a toxin for my diminishing breaths
The crisp stem is about to break
dosing off, losing grasp
this is how I want to go
A poet, a painter, a sculpturist
ending, finishing
with my art
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