Crimson is the slow smolder of the cigar end I hold,
Gray is the ash that stiffens and covers all silent the fire.
(A great man I know is dead and while he lies in his
coffin a gone flame I sit here in cumbering shadows
and smoke and watch my thoughts come and go.)
Leave a guest comment (subject to review)
Comments
-
A person who lost a loved one, or just a dear friend (how there's a difference I do not know) and thinks about how he is laying in the coffin and yet he is sitting smoking a pipe and watching it just drift away. The un-ending smoke to the sky.
I have had images of this recently, and my perception is quite the same. It's a bit haunting, but, I reckon if you have been there, then, it isn't so much.
A good piece by Sandburg.
Adding your comment:
