Poetry

Campfire Smoke (#1533)

We’re all just smoke over a campfire,
Drifting… wafting… higher and higher,
All as fleeting as a campfire tale,
Merely wisps across the evening vale,
All of us inevitably fade and disappear,
But the echoes of our lives remain here,
We leave behind artifacts of who we were,
And become memories that softly stir,
Up among the stars in the night’s cloak,
Just the remnants of campfire smoke,

Any Thoughts?

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