A lost and rediscovered poem – seven years in the making! (True story)
The Girl With the Cigarette
The girl from the shop, stands in the door,
Smoking her cigarette all through the day.
The boy with the pen, walks past the shop.
He wants to talk but doesn’t know what to say.
So off he goes home, pen in his hand,
Thoughts in his head, thinking away,
Thinking of her, standing and smoking,
Impossibly real in her smouldering way.
Hand goes to pen, pen goes to paper,
Thoughts go to words, words go to page:
He sits and he writes an ode to the girl
With the cigarette, and, a poem is made.
A beautiful poem, with rhyme and with reason.
The reason he rhymes? To let the world know
That there in the door of a little shop stands
A girl with a cigarette that he doesn’t know.
He prints it with clarity; decisive finality,
The carriages of his thoughts are a train
That is driven by heat and the steam of his feelings
Towards the girl smoking – the girl with no name.
The poem is written, and quickly forgotten
Along with the others – written before
(Note: this is where the original poem, unfinished, ends. I rediscovered it today, around seven years after writing. The final closing stanza, below, is my best attempt at finishing this piece. To be honest, I can’t remember if the girl with the cigarette is even real, or if I was the ‘boy with the pen’)
About other moments, perhaps, other wishes,
Perhaps. Maybe less than the girl, maybe more.