snow smokes across the sunset
my eyesight starts to fail
tomorrow grows ever distant
smoke
Your distant heard voice
your distant heard voice
drifts of smoke in the distance
hearts will be broken
Talking about David (1)
Tim took a cigarette, put it in his mouth. he looked up and a tear rolled slowly down his cheek. He breathed out smoke and the words. He’s gone then. Really gone this time. Yes. Yes, he has. Tim pulled hard on the cigarette, spotlit by the streetlight. I looked at him, hurting from being unable to help. He walked away across the road, through the sudden traffic. Rock and roll man, I heard. Rock and roll.
Believe our dreams
Our dreams are not coloured smoke that trail in strings from our hard-clenched fists;
Our dreams are light, morning breaking night, the rising sun beyond the clouds.
Change
“All improvement is change, but not all change is improvement” he said. Jim just gaped at him through the smoke and broken glass.
No cape, no escape
No cape, no escape. The words thundered round his head. No cape, no…. The flames crackled, snapped. The smoke choked his thoughts and watered his eyes. Adults screamed as the 5-year-old carefully climbed onto the window ledge, his baby brother tight in his arms. And again when he jumped, eyes squeezed shut. Later, when it was quiet and he was alone with the smell of smoke, he knew he would not need his cape again.
