once upon a time
on a night like this
I’d rise from my bed
get outside
under cover on the porch
and as the rain
gentled down above my head
I’d light a flame
take a drag
glow into the darkness
and the murmuring
of quiet
cigarette smoke
and a sense of peace
no-one else awake
or alive
only myself on planet earth
now
at two a.m.
I salute the rain by listening
from the bed where I’ve laid down
old bad habits
and tuned into the happiness
of a show-biz frog
rendition-ing his mating call
across the street
for a moment
I almost felt the touch against my lips
blue smoke against night-black
at two a.m.
I’m an aging fool
lighting up nostalgic old sins
and I really should know better
so good night
yes
good night
as I drift away
I can hear a gentle rain
lay down
~
-
Author:
Frank Prem (
Offline) - Published: December 8th, 2017 01:35
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: LeashaBear56
Offline)
Comments4
A real delight this one Frank - err not that I've ever smoked.
The nostalgia for it never really leaves Michael. It's a strange thing.
Perfectly written, Frank! I too am an aging fool, remembering the many nights I spent with friends in the local hang-outs, discussing the woes of the world, drinking beer, with cigarette smoke hanging in the air all around us. As you say in your poem: nostalgic old sins
Yes, Fred. I wouldn't smoke again, but it was a part of me for a long time.
Good write Frank.
Thanks O. Have one of mine ...
Sorry you fell victim to the enslaving weed, Frank. Watching my dad try to kick the habit convinced me to avoid it.
Another of your fine writes, this one!
I'm lucky. I gave it up for love. My father struggles along now with no lung to call his own. Asbestos dust probably contributed, but smoking was a big part of it.
Sorry to hear that about your dad. My dad, a heavy smoker, died eaten up with cancer that spread from his lungs. Nasty way to go!
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