Raining Smoke

It was always late and raining something like
Each time he stopped by the neighborhood smoky bar
For a drink of,

Once he saw her sitting in a plush red leather booth under
A neon fountain of tiger coloured light
Late one lonely night,

She spoke when she moved her tight little black skirt slit up to
There you are mister
Thought you were someone else but it
Doesn't much matter
Who you are or used to be,

I like the way you look right now
Just love how you talk, to me,

To,
Take a drink of
Each time he stopped by the neighborhood smoky bar
It was always late and raining something like . . .




Poetry by Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 68 times
star mini Editors' choice
Written on 2022-09-02 at 22:58

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text


Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
Congratulations! Your poem has been chosen to be featured on our home page by a fellow member of PoetBay. Thank you for posting on our poetry website!
2022-09-12