SMOKE | THE POETESS | Poem
I saw the clock struck 2
Rolled my eyes and sigh I blew
Went out upstairs
Ignoring the framed stares
Peeked into rooms
Where reality dooms
Maybe Sam’s flying a plane
And Father’s away from loss and gain
I can recognize
My mother’s pillow blanket disguise
I climb the stairs to top
Radio playing quiet pop
As I was earlier thinking
I see the smoke rising
One burnt at her down
She sat in her white gown
She was an angel indeed
But way out of general creed
With a smile and relief
She let away all her grief
As she breathed out
In the sky before a pout
She motioned me to sit
As she shoved out the grit
I told her my problem
She had only one way to solve them
I told her about imagining
What father & Sam might be dreaming
She said “same days”
“You don’t dream” she says
She offered me her cigaredon
And I refused like daily tradition
I’ve stopped stopping her
From committing her own murder
But the scars on her face
Revealed her men’s grace
With a sudden grate
I think I’ll meet the same fate
Her smoke is now handy
I feel young and randy
As I breathe in
My world experiences a spin
I let it hit my nerves
Go down my curves
And as a I exhale
The smoke comes out pale
With my first one down
The stars formed my crown
I felt so calm
The present seemed warm
That day I got my first scar
From my cheek bone not really far
And as I held another cigaredon
I made a new tradition
With a lot more smoke & little cry
My another sleepless night went by
~THE POETESS
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