Smoking

by

Rick Bandy

Exhaling.
Soft tendrils of smoke.
Ghostly fingers that
Caress my cheek
Raising imploring hands skyward
To be torn ragged by the breeze
And dissipate.

Drawing in.
The momentary glow
Slowly devouring
The rich brown leaves.
Transforming them to
A perfect ashen replica.
Of mottled gray.

In a dimly lit room
A radio quietly plays
Accompanied by ceiling fan hum
As a young woman begins
To roll her 67th cigar
And thinks of
The night before.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Limerick "Oh So Cold"
by: Joyce Hemsley
from: Sunderland, England, UK

To visit all of Rick Bandy's poems, click HERE

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