the dark corner of a room
is illuminated by a flickering soft light
a thin white candle sits
on a victorian mahogany side table

the wax is tainted pearl
the walls are olive green
a man smoking a pipe
reads an old, worn blue book

strings from the bindings
are frayed and scattered without certainty
and a light beige can be seen
peaking through the faded cobalt

there it's been worn from many hands

the silk material flame
hovers over the wick
is clear at it's base
is blinding in the center

it tapers into a yellow blade

the cherry tobacco smell eminating
from the glowing orange;
the leafs of obsession
out this small wood stem

the smoke permeates every object
and coats the red paizley smoking jacket
on the silver bearded man
and his gold rimmed reading glasses

magnifying the fading ink print

and so the smoke carries away
from the maroon oxford blanket
and his brown leather chair
on the breeze from an open window

in another scene completely

10/20/2005

Author's Note: I've written many pieces that have rhymed and many that haven't. I wanted to make a cross between. I wanted to create something that didn't rhyme at all - but gave the effect that it did. - if you read "Catharsis", I took the room's ambiance from there.

Posted on 10/20/2005
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