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fall into the time is running slow
She smokes a ghostly cigarette
Blows smoke-ring angels into the snow
Turn the tables on their sides
place the plates in certain rows
Devils waiting for the rides
Ghostly smoke-rings when it snows
Burning figures flying faster than light
slip beneath the permafrost of space
ashes are falling like stars through the night
Years of frozen tears make a mask of your face
I lost the bet forget my card
is somewhere sleeping in the snow
with Heaven growing by the yard
feeling my times by running slow .
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 1262 times
Written on 2012-12-14 at 15:17
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Smoking Angels
I lost the cards, forgot the betfall into the time is running slow
She smokes a ghostly cigarette
Blows smoke-ring angels into the snow
Turn the tables on their sides
place the plates in certain rows
Devils waiting for the rides
Ghostly smoke-rings when it snows
Burning figures flying faster than light
slip beneath the permafrost of space
ashes are falling like stars through the night
Years of frozen tears make a mask of your face
I lost the bet forget my card
is somewhere sleeping in the snow
with Heaven growing by the yard
feeling my times by running slow .
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 1262 times
Written on 2012-12-14 at 15:17
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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