Marijuana Canticle
By Stephen Martin
Cannabis had it’s time with me,
It rolled my mind so I could see,
The structured, vacant atrophy,
Of counter culture society.
But now that I have poem mind,
Instead its leaves seem to entwine,
The endless ribbons I’ve left behind,
So why return just to rewind?
If at the end I feel okay,
Marijuana may see another day,
But for now her warm embrace,
Is out of touch with time and place.
But I will not forget her healing song,
Or turn my nose up to a bong.
Pictures sourced from Pixabay.
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