Smoke Rings

Buy me a cigar, my ever patient friend,
and listen while my heart builds a darkened room
to hold the smoke.
Then we’ll wait ‘til the rolling clouds have settled to the floor
and I can clearly see whose there, or not,
Until the rings we blew into the mist
come round again to show their chang’ed form,
so near to what we once were,
so far from what we’d hoped for.