The Wood That Smelt Good:
I adore your smoldering odor.
Your sniff makes my nostrils go gaga.
It's like someone threw a rose at my nose.
Whoops, got it too close too my face; now I've got a left ash-cheek.
Try not to freak, but this smudge is gonna be here all week.
I've heard the birbs; they've spoken 'bout your smokin'.
Then they left a few turds as a token.
Copyright © Sabian T Warren | Year Posted 2019
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
to post a comment