Smoke Rings
"Smoke Rings"
I light the morning, slow and thin,
A spark that hums beneath my skin.
The paper sighs, the ember blooms,
And joy drifts softly through the fumes.
Each breath, a promise small, divine,
A borrowed sun I call it mine.
It burns too quick, it fades too soon,
A wisp of gold beneath the moon.
Ash falls quiet, like gentle snow,
Reminding me how moments go.
We chase the glow, we sip, we spin
Exhale, begin, inhale again.
And though it ends it always will
That fleeting warmth is with me still.
For happiness, like smoke, must flee
But oh, how sweet its brevity.
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