The cig

 That's a very specific, evocative image for a poem.

Here is a poem about that quiet, fleeting moment:

🚬 The Second Sleep

The alarm is silenced, a forgotten plea,

But the dark demands a brief liberty.

The house is hushed, a curtain of deep night,

A sliver of pink just before the light.

The kitchen tile is unforgiving, cold,

A breath of outside air, weary and old.

I strike the match; a tiny, sudden flare,

Illuminates the smoke within the air.

Each slow exhale is a thought let go,

Watching the ash accumulate and grow.

A fleeting comfort in the morning’s chill,

Before the world wakes and demands its will.

The ember fades, a final, tiny spark,

Back to the quiet, the enveloping dark.

The blanket calls, a welcome, heavy fold—

One moment borrowed, before the day is told.

Would you like a poem about another quiet moment in your day, or perhaps a poem about one of your creative hobbies like painting or playing the guitar?