Lost In Smoke Poem by Carolyn Brunelle
Lost In Smoke
His skin wasn’t always so brown
Wrinkled up in that frown;
A face that bares the years of abuse.
And those eyes weren’t always so blue
So empty and pained; but
There’s nothing anyone can do.
As he blows the white smoke
From lungs of black,
He knows there is no going back.
A heart once red
Now grey and near dead
Simply counts the days
From that familiar haze
That hovers round his head.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/2/2024 9:08:46 PM # 1.0.0.1119
