PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

After school,

Friends and I go to the tennis courts.

We walk,

My thoughts begin to give way.

I'm here, 

A few acquaintances, my best friend.

Second thoughts,

Begin to arise begin to doubt.

He reaches,

pulls out a bowl, packs it full.

I study,

Him carefully I want to know how it's done.

He notices,

Explaines the process in full detail.

I listen,

Eager to smoke that same old new feeling.

I'm last, 

Damn.

My turn,

I remember from expirence how to use it.

Smoke up,

Don't let it go, don't breath a single breath.

Holding it,

My head gets light I feel it almost instantly.

Once more,

Just for good measure.

I release,

I sit and watch the cloud fly high.

Get lost,

Watching the smoke turn to ribbons, than dissapear.

Thinking again,

Glad I did this, glad I learned how to.

Everyone leaves,

But my friend and I stay.

There's more,

Packs it again this time fuller than before.

We smoke,

Learning a new technique.

I'm up,

Wow.

Another education...

Learned by hanging out with friends from school.