incense
Learn more about other poetry terms
To my nose she was a stick of incense.
Filling me whole, her eyes.
The ashes fell,
Spacing her walk.
With smoke closely trailing.
The sun quickly set.
There's no where in the world I'd rather be.
There is something beautiful about it
The way the smoke ascends
The way the smoke bends
It bends around anything in its way
Drifting
Lifting…
