Six months sober, half the year without my lungs filled with smoke.
Honestly, I'd just like to roll that green, in natures leaves.
Sit beneath the trees, as I feel the stress leave.
Reminisce on memories, fill my thoughts with conclusions of worldly things, & have the wise words flow through my ears, captured by my mind, released from my mouth, & penned on paper.
This is not the me, in which I remember.
Greeting kisses from the sun.
"I know you missed me. It's been a long run"
Reality has begun, & I can no longer over come..
Because without you, I am stuck with this nicotine rush.