I sat upon a bench so cold, today,
I could see my breath,
Even though I was smoking
a cigarette.

I thought about my mother,
Lying in a rehab bed, alone,
And, I felt my self grow cold.

So cold are thoughts of self,
So bold are crimson tides,
So cold, I felt I couldn’t hold,
That I would explode
With everybody’s lives.

I thought, upon a bench so cold, today,
I could see Life’s width,
Even as I saw it as smoke
From my cigarette.

I thought about my others,
Dying in all elses beds, alone,
And, I felt my self grow cold.

So cold are actions of life,
So bold are crimson tides,
So cold, I felt I would be glad to die,
To painfully expose
Everybody’s lives.

I smiled, upon a bench so cold, today,
I could see my death,
Even though I lived, smoking
a cigarette.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 3/12/06