She looks on the passing traffic.
The whizz and the busy honking.
People in their normal pursuits,
Going noisily about their business.
She looked at the milieu,
With mildly curious eyes.
Drawing smoke into her lungs,
Closes her eyes against the sun.
Not feeling its warmth, nor the noise.
For one sublime moment...
As the smoke curls inside her.
She keeps her words locked inside,
Too precious to be shared...
Treasured inside, away from sight.
Wont you ask her what they are?