A poem by Ryckilynn White.


In the midst of a calm night, I inhale on my cigarette and gently let the smoke pour from my lips.
The moon is clear and vibrant, it is cool but not so much as that the crickets stop their melody.
The frogs chime in with their offbeat rhythm and I am left gazing up at a cloudless sky, the stars beaming beyond the nearest infinity.
The dark silhouettes of the trees seem ominous yet reassuring.
I inhale again, this time I watch my smoke dance up and into the stars.
The house is quiet, seemingly sleeping but I know it is still conscience to my own consciousness.
The questions I bring myself to ponder are nothing wondrous to me at least.
They are the things I think about to make myself smile.
A fool’s mind with a heart of gold and a mischievous grin; a giggle despondently set in a far away place of lackluster imagination.
Am I happy or am I sad?
Neither matters in the context of another’s home.
It should be my home but I am a stranger to my childhood.
The paths are still there but the voices in the darkness have changed with new purpose.
I inhale slowly and serenely and daydream of different lives; lives that I do not want nor wish to pursue.
The easy life of being successful.
I exhale and smile.
I know what I have always known.
I wish for a small cabin in the woods where no one can find me.
I wish for the walls to be lined with books. A life where every day is hard work with a dessert of literature.
A defiant stance to every day connection but ultimately a seat so close to the Creator no prayer is needed because it is lived.
I look at my smoke and my reflection in the window, the puppy is sleeping so I take a few more drags.
I blow my smoke so I can watch it dance in the light.
The swirls and twists remind me of life.
A soft smooth sentiment of beguiled notion and energy.
With a sad smile I know my life is no where near as beautiful as the smoke.
I sigh and flick my cigarette.
The moon shines on dewy grass and the wind helps the trees hold each other’s embrace for a few quiet seconds.
The glare of the moon in the pond is angry.
The fireflies kiss the darkness in their own special way.
I smile and hug my sweater around me.
I saunter back toward the house; another day gone, another night has begun.
Creator’s sun has kissed the moon good day and the stars are ready to play.
I look up at the sky and thank the Creator.
I head inside to ponder life some more, fully knowing that I do and do not belong.
But still, I smile.
I know that I love me and that’s all that really matters.