Ms. Kerr’s Chimney

Often still I find myself

Staring across rooftops

To gaze Ms. Kerr’s chimney

It towers proud and russet

above the crisp eaves

of her well tailored plume

Like her auburn tresses crown

her own well manicured estate

When trees are bare

My eyes descend her ivied bricks

to the window’s glowing wink

A glimpse of the warm comfort inside

and her sultry curves in silhouette

Like drinking warm cider

Cashmere and lined stockings

The way she bit the earpiece

of her glasses

Now headlights turn

cast their glow from the alley

And the house is left dark

beneath Ms. Kerr’s chimney