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Giddy Crowley Jan 2018
The smoked cigarette
- 'pon the snow is still smoldering,
- silently, as I pull another to my lips.
Giddy Crowley Jan 2018
Smoked the nights' last cigarette
- dreaming of an oak home
- that I, so dearly, wish ta' get.

Where in which: I can spend time
- with a woman who've I fallen for
- drinking whatever, coffee, wine;
- the others' interior mind, we'd explore.

One in which: we could raise young
- and teach them compassion, love,
- teach them how to walk among
- their fellow humans with courtesy.

Alas, these are all but dreams that do pass
- through the foggy and blue skull o' mine.

Smoked the nights' last cigarette
- dreaming of an oak home
- that I'll likely never get.

Ay - tis' not likely
- something that I'll see
- before I die.

— The End —