She met her
Down on that lonely road
The smoke still hung
Stiffly in the morning air,
Sun-roasted,
Passively affecting
The beings around.
The cigarette butt
Between her two fingers
Told she was
Now standing alone
Waiting for the thoughts
To wash over
And leave her really abandoned
For once.
She observed her
Her stance
While she was trying
To live the moment
Being Stoned!
Just like her!
Note: Dedicated to my friend Ronisha!
Mera Corner 
sounds like zen and the art of being chill, really liked the verse!
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Hey, I’m sorry couldn’t really understand what you meant, except that you liked it ;). Please do me a favor by making it clear, or I may become victim of misinterpretation 🙂
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yikes, just meant your friend sounds like a very chilled out person and your poem made a connect with me!
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Thanks for explaining. My friend is quite warm but might not be when she is stoned. I have never smoked so I can’t really understand the feeling of being stoned during and after smoking. I just tried to capture the picture she painted.
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Btw, whom did you feel connected with- the observer or the one who was stoned? 🙂
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both for very different reasons at very different points in my life 😀
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I am all ears. Pick the place and time 🙂
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hehehe 😀
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same 😀
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