Mrs. Mabel: A Eulogy

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On a still, transparent night
Mabel gazed into the abyss of sky,
Dissolving into mist
Lain atop the chaise long in her backyard

Pale and sensual
She took a final drag of life
Savoring the scents of spice markets
The dense fragrance of the salted seaside

Though her fingertips were pruning
That night, they were silken once again
Running through rough sand
Indenting warm flesh in fits of passion

In those seconds Mabel was a blooming adolescent
Robust with vigor to conquer all
A film of naivety on her eyes
Which never did wear off.






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