Cigarette Day
She wears tomorrow like a haloA cloudy cigarette day, conceals her hair
Weaving together a shawl of loose lines from here to there
Composing just the right tone for an armada of calls;
"But first things first alright, and what about that cup of coffee?"
The doctor swears she is the sanest person alive
Wants to wean her from the Xanax, *Heaven's sacramental pill*
While someone close as faraway
Writes poems you have to read to believe
On a cloudy cigarette day
Will her poet wear his heart on his sleeve.....
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 1070 times
Written on 2014-05-17 at 00:18
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