In the gentle curl of rising smoke,
A tale of warmth and fleeting dreams,
The ember glows, a quiet hope,
Beneath the stars’ soft, silver beams.

Wrapped in silence, the night unfolds,
Each breath a whisper, soft and light,
Shadows dance with secrets untold,
Lost in the haze, embracing night.

The ashes fall, like time’s own sand,
Scattered memories in the breeze,
A fragile touch, a fleeting hand,
Writing stories among the trees.

Yet in this moment, still and deep,
A solitude, both sweet and rare,
In smoke’s embrace, a soul may weep,
Finding peace in the midnight air.