Edwin Morgan (27 April 1920 – 17 August 2010 / Glasgow / Scotland)
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One Cigarette
No smoke without you, my fire.
After you left,
your cigarette glowed on in my ashtray
and sent up a long thread of such quiet grey
I smiled to wonder who would believe its signal
of so much love. One cigarette
in the non-smoker's tray.
As the last spire
trembles up, a sudden draught
blows it winding into my face.
Is it smell, is it taste?
You are here again, and I am drunk on your tobacco lips.
Out with the light.
Let the smoke lie back in the dark.
Till I hear the very ash
sigh down among the flowers of brass
I'll breathe, and long past midnight, your last kiss.
Read poems about / on: believe, kiss, fire, dark, light, flower, smile, wind
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I hear the very ash sigh down among the flowers of brass. good one.
(without cigarette on fire i can still smell you
much more if you put your lips to mine)
very realistic poem.
No smoke without you, my fire. I love this.
This way walked a great soul.
Well written... Thank you