Tuesday, 20 May 2014

Cigarette Break

He leans against the trunk of the winter tree,
holds his cigarette like a Tibetan horn,
and trumpets his breath into the frozen air.
His old life burns, becomes ash,
becomes the snow at his feet.
He is readying himself to return
to the world of buildings and cars
and, most of all, to the world of people,
with their red faces and their smiling eyes.

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