The Minute Poem by mrsmorning rrrr

You close your eyes, you open your eyes
And see
That little dungle and talls trees.
You fell, that something washes your face
But you don't know who's that.
Maybe it's drawing rain, maybe it's tears.

You smell out yummy puff
And see the light.
You steep in the big wailer
The sun... it's hot...
And the moon is here...
Then you take a pipe
And you don't remember nothing...
Nothing bad, nothing disdainful.