Makemkov's Muse.
Makemkov had a sudden
Thought while sitting on his bed,
Having a smoke, gazing out
Of the window at the new
Apartments across the way,
Where some young dame was slipping
Into something light and cool,
Unknowing that he gazed like this
On other days, the thought he
Had disturbed the sexy sight,
The image becoming blurred
Into another lustful
Smudge, he was going to be
Dead one day, the thought revealed,
Unclean or not so, he did
Not know, but die he would, he
Neither grand nor good, his death
Would come as all deaths came, each
With its owner's borrowed name.
poem by Terry Collett
Added by Poetry Lover
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