My thoughts turn faithfully to my cigarette,
conspirator-friend for one deep, long breath.
There is a tale told somewhere, I have heard,
it was tobacco leaves that grew on the tomb
of a girl born and straightway seized by death
in a time that has long been forgotten.
Listless dull smoke drifts before me, traces
of a flame that, just kindled,
begins to fade.
O how my heart torments me! If only
these many long, desolate, empty days
might be consumed as surely as you!