Gnarled

Like the dead, knotted branch

that threatened everything below it.

She rolled paper with tobacco,

licked and rolled the thing.

Like it was nothing.

I heard the wind, it whispered again.

The whisper before the roar.

A flick, a flame, and a snap.

Dark again.

Apart from the ashy glow.

And the half lit smoke curls

that disappeared.

Slowly.

I tried to think of something.

To say something.

But nothing came.

I could feel her stare

through our night.

Her lips drew again on the cigarette.

Glow, smoke, the impatience in her eyes

reflected the ember.

Smoky anger now.

Still nothing.

I can say nothing.

I let the moment pass.

Our moment pass.

One more glow on the ember.

Resilient disappointment gave

way to pity.

She turned and walked away.

How should I know

what time it is?