credit: gwenbeads.blogspot.dk
There is a man
Strolling along the pavement.
He smiles at you.
Do you hear his walking stick meeting the stones?
He touches his hat
It is old and made of felt
With a feather so long it tickles your nose.
Can you smell the dust?
He makes his hat disappear
In a puff of smoke
Revealing yellow curls underneath
Can you taste the burnt air?
It seems you were tricked;
The air is clear
And the man has no walking stick as he continues on his way,
But he tips his top hat at you as he leaves your brain.
A Bolg? 
rebecca2000
/ February 12, 2014Very creative. I really like this piece.
W. R. Woolf
/ February 12, 2014Thank you.
It’s actually an old idea (several years old), but I rewrote it. I think it’s much better now.