THE SMOKE RISES LIKE A GHOST
By JULES •
I watch the smoke from my cigarette....a Sinuous body unto it's own self.
Winding, Turning, Curves, unending. Like a Ghost.
Like A Spirit of Some kind. Good? Bad??
I will go with the Good Spirit.
As the Wind whistles outside, funny if it rains here tonight,
in this High Desert land.
Smoke arises again from my cigarette...seems to tell me,
something is eminent.
An immense Cloud. It floats by me,
like the finger of God.
It may float by me, like a Spirit undone.
It floats in front of me like it has something to say, to Me.
It Curls around my face, as if to caress me.
To Help Me.
To Save Me.
I know it may seem odd, but I know there was some hidden meaning in His thought.
Not sure of the Meaning, but it felt Right.
God, Hold me...tight... tonight!
By Julie Rapp - Copywrite - All rights Reserved.