Midnight Cigarette


Filter pressed
Against my mouth
Smoke roles off my lips
Raw taste in my mouth
As the moon light shines
Through the dark clouds
Not a sound but the rustle
Of the branches in the winter breeze
Bad habit this is fact
Although it goes perfectly
With the stillness in the air
Watch the smoke spiral up
Toward the night sky

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem