It’s interesting how
Smoke from a cigarette
Dances to its own tunes
Swaying, twirling and shifting
It’s interesting how
A little light from the sun
Makes the whole dance
Into one big theatre production
And then you blow
Gently into the centre
And the smoke disappears
Leaving little or no visual trace
But your drapes
And your sheets and pillows
Hold the memory
Of every cigarette ever smoked
Just like love.
