Poetry

If I Could Choose My Last Moment

by

Michael Estabrook

Dusk, on the screened-in porch,
candle’s
light reflecting in a glass
of cream sherry, scent
of lilac blossoms, rain softly pattering,
Haydn’s Cello Concerto playing,
Patti on my knee, one final kiss,
the sweet taste of life moist upon her lips