The smoke that dances from my smothered candle
Moves in ways
That seduce my sleepy eyes
As I watch it bend
Turn,
Twirl
Its hips to the sway of the air.
I follow the sensual movements of the dead flame
With tired intrigue that will not leave.
The luscious curves and shapes
Of the slim smoke trail
Climbs up, up, until it lies down on my ceiling,
Leaving a scent of vanilla lust about the room,
Until the smoke dance fades
And breaks my beautiful trance,
Bidding me find another love,
And rest my weary head.
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