Tonight is cold.
Harsh wind catches lost leaves -
all I see is her.
Tired hands maneuvering
delicate papers,
un-calloused fingertips
dancing to their tune.
She is softer now.
Glancing through dark lashes
warm glows casting
shadows on her skin
smoke exits slightly parted lips
writhing
reaching to the ceiling
a dusty scented halo.
Ashes cast sideways
- flick -
she leans back in her chair
regarding me with a stoned gaze.
Then she smiles.
smoke clears -
I will always
smile back.
About the Creator
Walking Travestys
Hello, I'm Sharon!
Enjoy poems from the past, and the present - all brought here for you! Thank you for reading, and thank you for being you! ❤️
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