May 2010

Left my mannish reaction
at the morning bed.
Started to whistling an old tune,
I reached deep down my empty pocket...
the last cigarette.
Had to use it wisely.

So I light it while
I whistled his smoke to the lonely air
of my lonely room.

Still  remember the shapes of his
by my tune.

Written by
     D Conors
Please log in to view and add comments on poems