In the shadows of the night, a flame ignites,
A dance of smoke, a fleeting wisp in flight.
The taste of ash, the breath of borrowed time,
A silent whisper, a secret, subtle crime.

Each drag, a journey to the past so sweet,
Memories entwined with every heartbeat.
Yet in the haze, a future clouded gray,
Choices made, the price we all must pay.

The warmth of fire, the comfort of the known,
A fleeting friend, a vice we’ve always shown.
But in the end, the embers fade to black,
And lungs cry out for air they sorely lack.

Oh, smoking habit, bittersweet and bold,
A tale of warmth that leaves us freezing cold.
To quit the dance, to leave the smoke behind,
Is to reclaim the breath, the peace of mind.