evocative

evocative i lie on my deck floor, stippled sunlight stretches through leaves, touches my face. eyes closed, as are my lips, though ears are opened wide. i hear a mourning dove, calling from some other place, its plaintive cries elicit stinging tears. if i had a bottle and in it lived a genie... make me young, again, let someone love me, enough to last, ever my lifetime. i awaken with a start, the poison takes its tariff. stripes of sunshine alternate on my blanket with those of shade, cast by bars on my window. my nose detects a myriad of scents: piss, pine cleaner, garlic, odors evocative of more recent times, no more pleasant than my current condition. if i had an urn and in it were my ashes... let me move along in my passage of life, let it be over now, let it end. i try to open my eyes, but cannot. ©tlp 2010