CIGAR

By G BHARGAV

A pipe of paper

rolled with tobacco and stuff.

To hold only a pen, the fingers knew.

Innocently fidgeting a cigar now.

The open tip

lightened into a lamp.

The tiny rattling noise of leaf

burnt its way up with every sniff.

A hesitated inhale

exploded my throat

burning its way down the lungs,

escaping through the nostrils.

Would this storm of smoke

clear the garbage of thoughts,

pain & memories and wake

me up to the dawn of light?

By G BHARGAV