Smokes The Season Poem by Emmanuel Aneto

Gently it flows across the sea
Ripping trees and bending trunks
And tottering the clandestine creatures
That lay across the vast sea shores

It is groomed within uncommon hue
Natures over flowing affinity
And the source endless creativity
Having no origin save for antiquity

Oh! It settles my withered bosom
Making me wet and blossom
And setting me free from long ridden pangs
Couched within artistic clangs

Now! Oh! I love and love
And wondered whether why
this feeling got me this way
but these smokes would never let die