Smokey Dreams

This is a poem from a short, ten poem collection titled "Fantasy."

I light a cigarette.

Watch it slowly burn.

Close my eyes and breathe

deep the smell of smoke

hidden in the darkest corners of my memory

thoughts of you lazily drift

as if carried by the wind to the sky

where the embers burn bright like stars

shooting, falling, leaving a trail of hot ash

in a streak across the night, across my skin

warmth spreads with every flake

every crack from the flames of the fire

consuming my body, surrounding me in its arms

making me feel safe, at home

in my house of frozen moments

stolen away by the end, the butt

grows cold to the touch, my fingers

search for a match in the dark

to light it up again.