Palo Santo
The Wood That Smelt Good:
I adore your smoldering odor.
Your sniff makes my nostrils go gaga.
It's like someone threw a rose at my nose.
Whoops, got it too close too my face; now I've got a left ash-cheek.
Try not to freak, but this smudge is gonna be here all week.
I've heard the birbs; they've spoken 'bout your smokin'.
Then they left a few turds as a token.
Copyright © Sabian T Warren | Year Posted 2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment