Candle

A dark room.
A white candle hovers
above an empty cigarette packet.
Wavering shadows radiate
off the surrounding walls.
Silhouette of a bow-legged meditating frog
sitting at my side.
Music fills my ears,
stale smoke - my lungs.
Cold fingers remember starry skies,
and the Wanderer,
the one who forever seeks his destination.
A sense of counterfeit warmth,
A familiar environment.
Intake, faltering breath.
Trails of white smoke whisp,
glide tenderly to the floor above.
Elongated wings - flicker,
Alone as one.
Arise as many.

-Michael Hampton