My Pack drops in the sand,
I turn, my head to face the West.
The sulfur burns, I strike a match.
Wind blows, my prints alight the sand.
The birds, the summer last flight,
The something of my tell,
Curls West along my tears.
To carry, to flee my heart from me.
Many of my story, interpret, plea.
Blue smoke fills my lungs,
the hot embrace my only friend,
of candle's kiss I join.
The Ocean breeze I yearn,
It's bruise I crave, gone from me.
It's past echoes in the road,
The mountains taunt under the smoky sky.
My Tobac, the taste of my passion,
Stings my eyes with tears.
Wraps my soul in wings of fire
and trapped soul free.
~~LV