Kind glance at a sorrowful ash tray

The cigarette butts gather day by day
If it counts more than of his age
Like a mountain on the tray top.
I see in the darkness like a firefly
Cigarette moves here & there.
Where those circles of smoke
Gone to the sky?
My brother!
Don't burn yourself
And let the life burns.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!