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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.
Edwin Morgan
When I read this, I forget all about going -'Eww no. What do you mean you want a fag?'
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beautiful.
ReplyDeletei love this blog.
you should make this common to some more bloggers so we can all post things we want to share :)
:)
ReplyDeleteHey we over-enthusiasts could always form a joint blog! Ektu reminiscent of a cultural hub but what the hell.
Eeee! Me, me, me! Pick me, pick me!
ReplyDelete