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The Smoking Woman

the last time i saw you

was years before you died

that big smirk, hazel eyes

wrinkled face, aged and wise

leaving your home, i reverse to see

the door ajar, peeking out at me

the smoking woman seeming carefree

dog in hand, both of you, short and gutsy

i wave goodbye, ‘i love you’ with glee

knowing one day i will miss this reality

the last time i saw her

almost two years has passed

my personal doomsday

an emotional bomb blast

i have no choice, i look at that day

as the other side gently making way

for the gutsy smoking woman

April 23rd, feast day

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