Wednesday, 20 August 2025

A Poem a Day (728): Smoke (poems from a pub)

 
Smoke
 
Smoke,
a trickle of haze,
this distant daze
within this maze of being
smoke.
 
Write letters
you can never extinguish,
an unbreakable line.
 
A muse
seldom amused,
she feels the afront
of being female,
actually daring to be so
in a world of bias.
 
Smoke.
It gets in your face,
refuses to shift,
confuses your perspective,
overstays its welcome.
 
Wave your hand
simply to free yourself from
smoke.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, August 17, 2025


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