Smoke
by Mariann Harkness
I would visit; sit at your kitchen table;
enable the ceiling to turn tangerine
mean with our smoke. Stoke up old
memories of fun days and sun days
and some not so good ways.
But would I change them? Never.
Forever they lie imprinted like the
nicotine on our fingers - lingering.
Click to see more writing by Mariann Harkness
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Our Sincere Apologies
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Donna Stark
Hidden in Hyde
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As Time Goes - Bye
Mariann Harkness
Latest Prompt
It's almost Christmas so let's have something seasonal... Anything you like as long as it's Christmassy.
