Smoke

These golden leaves wrapped up

On veins, wires across my brain –

They shimmer in the light

Of that candle that flickers by my pen,

With each flash, an axon firing.

But where do you go?

When all that’s left is melted down

And the air is whisped with smoke.

And soon –

Even that has dissipated,

Leaving only the faint smell of your memories.

And where have you gone?

No doubt to gleam in someone else’s presence –

Someone who does not fumble so much over words,

Someone less unkempt.

But soon –

I know that your glimmer will fade there too,

Onto somewhere new –

A new room to illuminate, and then,

Vanish.

• inspiration
• poetry
• smoke