I know I’m alive when sweet spring hawthorn scents my doorway
I know I’m alive when French silk pie lingers on my tongue
I know I’m alive when I slide between cool laundered sheets
I know I’m alive when movement of shadows change with the sun
I know I’m alive when Clapton blues dance my feet
I know I’m alive when I’m grateful for life
knowing death always sits on my shoulder
The NaPoWriMo prompt for today was to write a poem with a repetitive setup.
Photo of a hawthorn bush courtesy of Pixabay
Wind Rush 
Let’s keep ourselves dancing to Clapton – harder for Death to grab if we keep moving!
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I hope so, Jazz, because I dance all the time, mostly alone in the kitchen. 🙂
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So much to be grateful for, including this delightful poem!
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Thank you, Heather. You are very kind.
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A pleasure.
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Yes, yes, yes….and oh, that last line!
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Thank you V.J. I got that from one of the Carlos Castaneda books. Don Juan used to tell him to remember that death sits on his left shoulder. That thought always reminded me to embrace life while it’s here; you never know. Thanks for stopping by. Hope you are well.
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Ah! Been a long time since I read those books. Good wisdom. We are good as can be, thanks. Hoping for the return of warm weather.
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I so enjoyed this celebration of life, LuAnne. Life is a great gift.
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