A smoky question mark appears on the hill
a white fluffy, benign shape asking
eyes stare at it, mind as blank as the smoke
Nothing formulates
no requests,
no thought,
no wish.
Facing the unexpected, there is only wonder
as when a shooting star crosses a patch of sky
The inquiry
hope
thought
are absent.
The apparition leaves before the eyes
Can summon a guessing mind…
What was that interrogation
floating
unraveling
joining
a hazy veil
soon translucent
stopped in its rise
then dismissed
reduced to nothing in a blink?
Is that what you mean my soul
when you say nothing is real?
because all ends without a trace?
like smoke
meteor showers
the scent of roses
and love? …
Row your boat
Life is but a dream…
unbuttoned or undone 
Nicely done! I like the visible patterns in the prose.
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Thanks Suz. It was the oddest thing that smoke…
I guess I still try to draw a picture!
Hugs
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I think I have grown accustom to rowing and dreaming at the same time while all the rest of life descends into and out of the fog. I rarely notice anymore. I loved this one. It spoke to me.
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Glad it spoke to you.
You could say it is a smoke induced dream.
🙂
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Ah, Emmy, nothing is real…
Misunderstanding all you see…
Smoke, mirrors, roses and dreams.
What more can you – or the cloud – ask for?
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If nothing is real then what am I doing here?
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Peut-etre tu attends un verre de rosé.?
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In vino veritas…?
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All of the others may not be real, Emm, but never love.
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You would say that! 🙂
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If it wasn’t real it wouldn’t hurt so much sometimes, eh?
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The feelings are real and so is the pain, no doubt about that. 😉
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