Narrative

The lady with the fag, sat in her kitchen of the OAP complex 
The lady with the fag who drinks copious amounts of tea and listens to the wireless The lady with the fag who’s becoming smaller and more fragile by the day 
Who’s laugh is contagious 
Who doesn’t like being filmed but still plays up for the camera 
Who passes on the wisdom of life’s experiences and regrets to me as I sit there inhaling the smoke as I think of how homely and familiar the smell of jps super king blue fags is to me because it reminds me of her 
The lady with the fag will one day be the angel with the fag 
But I’m not ready to meet the angel with the fag- because the lady with the fag already is my angel, she’s just my angel on Earth