Smoke

I was once a flame.

Only smoke remains
temporarily
floating into the air
after that flame
has been suddenly extinguished,
a soft gray cloud
drifting in the air
and ceasing to exist.
One would never know
that a flame had burned brightly,
blue at the cotton wick base
and dancing
with happiness and excitement.
The pleasure faded quickly
by a simple cold breeze,
leaving no warmth behind
as a reminder of the light
that had brightened the room.
Smoke attempts to dance gracefully
and appear happy,
but the surroundings
absorb its existence
before it notices
that dancing
is no longer possible.

I was once a flame.

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