Smoke

A puff of smoke drifts away on the night air. It fades and you follow it but it continues on until you can follow it no more.

It will never return and what remains is that which surrounds you now. New sights, new tastes, new smells.

The puff is gone as that is it's nature.

Nothing left but to make a new puff.

Goodbye, smoke.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Dad: By the Numbers

A Tale of Two Brothers

It's OK