::::::::

...measured footsteps were hushed
....but the floor squealed and creaked
......door slowly, carefully was opened,
.........the hinges...all but squeaked...

cool sea breeze rushed in,
through the glass windows
...and half-opened door,
...stoking the ember of a cigarette
...resting on an ash tray....barely half-smoked...

flowered curtains danced and swayed
cigarette smoke snaked......and spread
within the small space of the sala,
white smoke...blended with the room's gray mood,
...and the low lamp glow.....while on the radio,

Miles Davis' "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes,"
........................played on...

there was too much noise
in the silence  that wrapped
the cottage........thundering...yet,
unheard, by the lady seated on the floor,
silent...with a cold gaze...agape...though, not
of splendor...from the creamy full-moon above,
her one hand, a few inches from her throat
that hurt so much....fingers reaching,
...towards her slim, silky neck....gasping,
....catching precious breath
'til there was no more......just death...
smoke was fading,
from the cigarette's dying ember...

.............radio was playing,
................"Every Breath You Take."



Sally

Copyright March 12, 2018
rrab