I carry the pain at heart
like a smoker carries his cigarettes
for when the night falls & my feet are tired
I rest my back against an old tree
and think , of all the good times
that seem to have flown by .
I fix my eyes at some far point in the sky
like a smoker stares somewhere in the horizon
and I cry , a tear or two
he smokes , a puff or two
both soothe the nerves .
Once the heart is light , I wipe my tears
like he crushes the cigarette beneath his feet
a moment of sudden peace arrives
as the mind stands still
until we both look away & decide
it is best to move on .
A little chunk of our heart decides to stay
as if , it was its destiny
the tear-drop which moisted the soil soon dries
and the wind spreads the cigarette ash .
(Poem and Photograph)