21
Nov
09

Cigar

Sitting in the cold

Evening air

With a burning

Cigar

In one hand

And a glass of wine

In the other,

My thoughts

Turn

And race

From love

To lust

And passions-

Real-

And of dreams.

The burning

Red

Of the tip of the cigar

Glowing

With each draw,

Smoke swirling

Around my face

As if a screen

For my thoughts.

The cool air

Chilling the outside

As the wine and cigar

Stir warmth within.

My mind

Searches through the corners of thoughts and dreams and desires and hopes…

As the restlessness grows

And the hunger swells

For all those

Thoughts

To be found

And nailed down

Long enough

To be real.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

November 21, 2009

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