Tuesday, October 12, 2010

The man next door, I don't know his name
He smokes in the apartment stairwell at 3am
Sits on a step, alone
leaves ashes and burnt cigarettes behind
I don't report him to the landlord, though I don't like smoking,
nor stairs with tobacco's remains
But a man who smokes at 3am deserves his peace, I conclude
And his clouds of aloneness are gone by the early morn'


Juice Box said...
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Juice Box said...

Anyone who does anything at three in the morning deserves their peace. Really nice imagery here.

Mary said...

I can picture the scene in your poem very well. Though he deserves his peace, I would worry that he'd set the place on fire!

Old Ollie said...

Lonesome, sad, meditative...to bad smoking is slow suicide.

Old Ollie said...

Also too bad I can't spell - cheers - keep the poems flowing.

Human Paradox said...

One of my favorites SC. Good stuff.