No smoke without you, my fire.
After you left,
Your cigarette glowed on in my ashtray
And sent up a long thread of such gray quiet gray.
I smiled to wonder who would believe its single.
Of so much love, one cigarette
In a non-smoker's tray.
As the last spire
Trembles up, a sudden draught
Blows it winding into my face.
Is is smell, is it taste?
You are here again, and I'm 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.
