Train of Thought

Shortness of breath
reminds me of
the stench of Old Golds
wafting to upper bunk
as ash spills from glowing red tip
into ash tray beside their bed
reminds me of
camping at Oak Grove Campground
hiking the loops with Cinder
short of breath


I decided to write another Quadrille for dVerse Poets Pub, or more accurately it decided to be written while I was trying to fall asleep last night. For those who might wonder, Cinder was the dog we had when I was little.

I am a Jesus Freak, and I don't care who knows it. I am a wife, mother, sister, aunt, daughter, and friend. My blood family is only part of the larger family of Christ that I belong to. I love to write, especially about my dear Savior.


11 Responses

    • Thanks. As I wrote it, I could picture the giant campground map with it’s three big loops. I should have dug it out, scanned it, and included it with the post. 🙂

  1. When I see my good friend, going outside and around the corner to get his smoke, then coming back to us with that undeniable smell…..and health beginning to fail and still he smokes — one understands the addicition this is for some. So very very sad.

      • I lived with secondhand smoke for several years (18-21), Linda. Both in my apartment (ex husband) and at work (in a bar.) Just awful. I’ll never forget the day I felt like I got my nose back. Now I can’t stand even one whiff of smoke.

        I loved this stream of conscious…from the tip of ash to the panting pup. Isn’t it funny how thought comes around right at bedtime, like swirls of smoke?

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