Eight-line Poems 2

Ode for a Passing

Ode for a Passing

Smoke like interstellar dust between the galaxies
caught by the satellite Hubble in a distant instant
and coloured by computer to teach the human eye
the wonders and beauties we shall never touch.

So drifts the smoke from the white tube held by lips
with the glowing ember roasting and toasting at tip
wreaths of ephemeral blue writhing in darkness
a sight rare now and soon to be gone.


Line count: 8
Free verse
For Express It In Eight, 04.08.24
Prompt: Smoke.