I love smokes.
Not smoking. Just smoke.
I love the untangible shapes it make.
The curves, the willows, the cascading rolls.
Elusive but yet, existing.
How it dissoves into nothingness a second later.
Smoke is a beautiful thing.
It appears like a ghost and fades in front of your eyes.
I want to touch it and feel the soft cotton it might be
but when I open my hand, nothing's there.
It could escape right between my f i n g e r s.
I want to twirl my fingers through it
and see if it would make twists and turns like paint in water.
I want to catch it and keep it in a jar.
I want it like something I can't keep.
Credit: photo by Glasperlenspielerin@deviantart.com
