In the quiet curl of smoke, dreams take flight,
Whispers of longing in the night,
Each ember a story, burning bright,
Yet fading swiftly out of sight.

The paper wraps secrets, hidden and deep,
Promises of solace, a lull to sleep,
But in the haze, the shadows creep,
A fragile oath we cannot keep.

Ashes fall like forgotten time,
Marking moments in soot and grime,
The dance of smoke, a fleeting rhyme,
Lost in the air, in the endless climb.

Yet still, the hand reaches for the spark,
In the dim glow, igniting the dark,
A cycle of yearning, a lingering mark,
In the heart’s quiet, eternal park.