Gypsy

I was recovering from the flu.....which my grandmother gave me.

Misty, wispy smoke
Is filling up the sky
Tell the voices
There’s no need to cry
All that is done is done
Live out your days as one

Your incense is making me high
Remember when oh, never mind why
Nostalgia wins
Because we don’t care
It floats on by
Through the frosty air

You’re calling out
While I’m inside
Just go to sleep
Dream and hide
It’s okay
The light is out…
And no one will shout

Your brilliant ghost
Is making me dry
Trace a hand
At least say hi
All that’s left
Is whisky and rye…
Time to say goodbye

Author's Note

I love critique.