Luke Steadman Poet Rhyme

Smokey Kisses...

the pipe smoke slowly rises 
from my muttering lips
we can't look through 
the tangling ribbon's white eclipse 
on a journey including 
only the mind, now you are all alone
the smoke's still strolling in the air 
like a kiss that's just been blown

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Laurie Ginn July 18, 2009 at 6:51 AM My uncle used to smoke a pipe. As a child I used to be facinated by it. The smell although probably not politically correct is full of precious memories. Your words, tangling ribbons are so descriptive and easy. That may make sense only in my mind but your poem takes me to good places