prose room

Two and a half dumpling lay wasted on the plate.
Lazy swaying haze
erupting with an eased reluctance
from the ignored cigarette.
Smells of whiskey from the air arise,
tiny fragrance of spirit indulged with ice.

Inky shadows disturbed the empty room.
Silence altercating with pulse of the clock.
Strumming of six strings broke in on occasion,
partnered by a song.
Low, long and strong.

Muffled

The sun kissed day
Flows over our life.
And we prepare again
For daze of the night.

The gloom of the clouds
Surrounds our sky.
Gift of snow flakes
Or just another lie?

Brunette across the table,
Forms whirlwind with her wine
Her touch of infidelity,
Gives evening its shine.

Friends circle the light,
Creating little smoke ring.
They defeat the cold
With laughter and drink