Night Blooming Jasmine by Angela Thomas When I used to sneak out my window, the ledge would always grab my hand. It was almost like it tried to warn me. I needed to use the airconditioner to step onto the wet ground. I'd wipe my feet off on my pants, and put on my shoes. The air was laden with night blooming jasmine as I stepped out. 01/27/2004 Author's Note: This poem was supposed to be titled after a particular scent that triggers a memory, and then the body of the poem should be the memory itself. Posted on 01/27/2004 Copyright © 2024 Angela Thomas Return to the Previous Page   pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online All works Copyright © 2024 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)