The Last cigarette, puffs of nostalgia and goodness

Last night before sleep while I was on my last cigarette,

While the storm roared in the dark and candles replaced modernism

I sat by the window and let the windy moisture cleanse me. 

I hesitated but in deep urge, I tasted the rain. 

The first rain of the season….

It tasted just the same. 

The little girl in me that used to love rain flew back,

It was like a nostalgic sensation that voyaged all through me. 

I missed mum.

Been months now.

The last time I visited her, we fought and I returned by the night train. 

I missed her clattering bangles, I missed her anklets resonating her presence. 

During the rains she used to bake great cookies and savories…

Her tea and those snacks never failed to satisfy our hunger!

She used to blush everytime we praised her,

And then she would plan for the next delicious meal. 

I missed her cuddles and the charm she carried along,

I missed her like I never missed her before.

I wanted to call her and let her know my love…

But damn!

No modernism meant no charging points, 

And my dead phone had no reason to be out of my bag. 

I sat there by the window for ages it seemed, 

Remembering old times, nostalgia and dreams. 

The tiredness slowly drained out and I felt happier in life,

Happier with all I had,

Happier without all the greed in mind. 
Certainly, I did enjoy a very peaceful sleep last night,

No lines of stress and I woke up with a big foolish smile. 

I don’t know if it’s the hangover talking or something else

But last night brought back memories, all the truths and lies. 

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7 thoughts on “The Last cigarette, puffs of nostalgia and goodness

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