The color orange engulfs her
in hazy dreams—appears as a sheer
shawl to web her shoulders,
a pair of lace-up long boots
to hug her calves. It’s not the color
she has to relinquish
upon waking. Just the fog
that presses it down, packs it tight
against her chest.
Night & Day Poems of Amy Nash 
hmmm … this made me think of the weight of cigarettes; the entire habit. so glad you are channeling your recent experience in such a brilliant creative way!
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Thanks Tom. It is funny how often fire and smoke seem to be showing up in the poems lately.
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You may not be lighting up an cigs lately, but, girl, your creativity is on fire! Love this one.
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It is funny how something now gone from my life is such a source of inspiration. Same thing happened when I first got sober. Thanks!
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