Smoke
With every breeze, I hack and wheeze.
I cough. I cry. I choke.
It follows me. It swallows me:
this fire’s sneaky smoke.To make the fire die, I try
To prod. To push. To poke.
But WHOOSH, it roars, and upward pours
A cloud of caustic smoke.I move around the camping ground
To catch a breath of air
But everywhere I go, oh no!
The smoke’s already there.It chases me, embraces me,
It stings my eyes, my nose…
But I’m dismayed, and can’t evade
No matter where it blows.