Rings of beautiful smoke
they escape your lips every now and then.
And I, lay gazing at the grace,
with which the float, skywards,
And just before they are gone,
I close my eyes.
Pretending they were, and will always be, right there.
Dancing in the space, between Us.
Their billowing grace,
The white... pristine magic.
And then, you take another
puff at you cigarette.
I watch the orange flame
reflect in your eyes. As you,
stare into the infinite.
Present me another ring of smoke.
As magical, as beautiful, as transient
As the last.
Or, on second thoughts, even better.
And then, I close my eyes
To breathe them in.
in. To breathe
And when I open them,
You are gone.
Up in smoke.
As magically, as beautifully, as effervescently
As those rings.
You gave me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem