Night Smoke

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Night Smoke

Incomplete, it rises
only to dissipate

like the griefs we shape,
somehow unnoticed,

beyond reach but felt.
Last night’s moon, the glance.

Forgotten stars, a withheld
kiss, words we never formed.

How difficult to be lost.
So easy to remain unseen.

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38 thoughts on “Night Smoke”

  3. A lovely poem to greet me with on my first visit to your page. Enough to make me hit the follow button and give you my assurance that I’ll be back to check out some more in the very near future. Thanks for the visit, I’ll read you later.

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  6. This rewards re-reading, Robert. Smoke–a necessary characteristic of it is that it is the effect of something being consumed, often beyond recognition. Like grief, or like the smallest gesture–once spent, there is always a byproduct, even when nothing seems to remain. And then there is the memory of experiencing that effect, that byproduct.

    And then there is this poem.

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  15. Your work is consistently lovely, Robert, in part because you understand so well that powerful writing is often a matter of subtraction or distillation. “Night Smoke” is one of my favorites thus far, especially this couplet: “Forgotten stars, a withheld kiss, words we never formed.” I am glad to have found your work, and thank you for reading mine, as well. Namaste.

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