Sunday, April 19, 2015


Life is like a lit cigarette
When idle, time moves slowly like the burning head
But days just seem to fly so fast like the smoke running away

Watching them getting wasted silently, we get desperate.
We take a hit of life into our lungs to catch those days that are slipping away
The embers on the tip glow red in the dark
Our head is afloat in momentary bliss
But ironically the cigarette burns fast, leaving ashes of memories in its wake

Three smokers lighted up one evening
One was so anxious to smoke his cigarette to the fullest
He took fervent puffs, with occasional coughs,
Agitated by the shrinking breadth,
Leaving scarce time to catch his breath

Another was so snug with his cigarette as with a good old friend
He took a deep drag until his lungs were full,
And exhaled slowly closing his eyes,
While a peaceful calm washed over him.
He never glanced at the diminishing cigarette

I tried to take a deep drag but my lungs failed me in between.
I exhaled suddenly. While I gasped for breath,
I kept on looking at the burning tip,
the flying smoke,  the ticking clock
I lifted my cigarette to take another,
But the cigarette slipped off my fingers, so I stubbed it away.
And lit another one.

No comments:

Post a Comment