remembering

a certain smell in the air 

the fading color in my hair

only a look never a stare 

never a stare maybe a glare 

i the tortoise you the hare 

because you win while i lose 

only one left i can choose 

is me or choose the blues 

choose that or choose the booze 

it only feels like bad news 

soon as it came i forgot

the memory of Mr. Big Shot

think about it i must not

because remembering leaves me distraught

of almost hitting the jackpot, but not.

˚ ⟢ .˚ 🌷 ˚. ⟢ ˚