Cozy Way

Do you feel a certain way when looking at the waves
along a cozy coastline that’s lined with fleets of shells?
You sort of settle vacantly, transfixed and more relaxed
than you’d been a moment past, before you saw the sea.
Or maybe in the curving arm and bending claw of smoke
that rises from your lips or from your very fingertips,
and pollutes the air with essence of a mass production.
We long to build a cherished lift that keeps us held above,
away from all uncertainty, accompany the clouds;
pretend that all the muddled words that reach us from below
are cheers of our exaltation and our place earned in the sky.
And there we’d see nothing but the sea and clouds
that look like stray and wayward-billowed
stacks of smoke, lost to what they’d only known
and their only sense of right and home.
Our smiling and fattened faces would open
and grin with bright and glaring teeth,
lost in the exhaust of lift to elevated gold,
eventually sleeping most of the day away.

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Beavis's picture

Excellent! Very well crafted

Excellent! Very well crafted poem. Thanks for sharing it.