Thursday, May 2, 2013

Cigarette Smoke


Ponderings on Beaufort St - 3rd May 2013

He walked ahead of me
His jeans the same cut
Held up by some reverse force of gravity
For they had that weary crumpled look
As if expiring they would fall into a heap

He walked ahead of me
The same loose limbed leggy walk
Of young wolf growing into his stride
He bent his head and cupped his hand
Thin stream of smoke
Streamed behind

And oh, I wished with all my heart
That time would warp
And through its folds you would walk
That same loose limbed leggy walk
And walk with me to work

I see you bend your head and cup your hand
As you light up a smoke
I see the thin small stream of smoke
You catch my disapproving parental eye
And grin in mischievous delight

Hey pops don’t worry,
As air fills with the scent of smoke
Smoking won’t kill me
It’ll be something else
And you, my son were right

Having stepped through the folds of time
I’m left behind, thankful for the memories
Of jeans cut just right
And loose limbed leggy long-stepped strides
And cigarette smoke.

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