Smoke

Smoke, it curls around her lips -
Vapor dances across her fingertips.
Wispy trails caress her form,
As she begs smoke: please stay strong.
Mist curls and twists against the breeze,
Disappearing now into the trees.
And just like that, the trail is gone.
When she looks, smoke can't be found.
Soot's heat is now mere memory,
Something that cannot be seen.
Her eyes grow full with fear of loss;
Smoke is gone like a cunning fox.
She'll reach and grasp so desperately,
Praying for a glimpse of smoke on breeze.