Astringent as the chill,
the smoke ascends
and smites the bleary eyes
from yonder hill:
Draw closer, frightened one;
the footsteps speed
from curiosity
into a run -
In horror, prim and stern,
the scene unfolds,
my gawking scolding what
the smell confirms;
Oh, tardy truants thus!
So comatose,
in view of all the street,
euphonious!
I feel it is my right,
my duty! Yes -
to reprimand "this sort",
to set them right;
And yet - no words will come,
for out of shock
my bleak hypocrisy *
turns mute and numb.
We grudging brethren are
and share one tongue;
though speaking dialects,
seem not so far:
Escaping in his way
is bolder fun -
but my rebellion speaks
far past the day -
a little farther, still!
* This does not mean I smoke pot.
Oh, wow! I just now noticed the rhyme! I like this one very much.
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