While
Smoking a Cigarette on the Deck
One yard
over
Lady Madonna stands barefoot in the snow.
Her eyes, impressed fingerprints
the birds peck at
these, still, narrow days.
She half
smiles,
I take another drag
and think,
if there were a leaf left
it might be grieving,
or
soon she will be framed in twilight.
Copyright © 2001 Tasha
