Smoke, Pipes And Bones

So I see this bird

Smoking a pipe,

And I say it’s strange

To see

A bird with a pipe,

How do you know

I’m a bird

She said,

Well by the way

You’re built

I replied,

Looks can be

Deceiving my man,

Why do you say

I am your man,

Because if I

Dropped my feathers

You’d want me to play,

And she blew

Smoke in my eyes

 And she sang,

 How long will it be

From when they

Bury our bones

T’ill who we

Think we are

Is forgotten.

Stephen Nesbitt ©

From “Spring Into Summer” www.StrangersAndPoetry.com

8:15 AM June 18, 2012

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