Smoke

Draw another line of smoke,
Amidst the lonely night stars,
Words go unspoken,
With not a soul to hear,
Save the cold reflection,
Or the cricket symphony outside.

The phantoms of light,
Change as the show does,
Company granted by celebrity,
As salesman peddling their wares,
Uncaring to the sullen viewer,
Craving honest words.

The silent strangers gaze lingers,
As a broken man stares back,
Alone in the world,
Except for each other,
Blowing smoke rings at each other,
To pass the lonesome night.

Silently the crystals fall
Shatter against the pillow
The insectile orchestra
Into a fowl ensemble
The sun grants fresh light
A pure day, tainted.

(Original date 7/8/2010)