photo by J. C. Eger
This has more to do with fire and things that might not want to be saved than it does with smoke, but... it had the word smoke in it, so I offer it up to the One Single Impression prompt anyway.
Our sirens screaming in the night,
Hang on, we’re on our way!
But I can no longer see
through smoke and glassy eyes.
There is a heat here you don’t understand.
We are flinging things from your second story.
Your past is safe upon the dewy grass.
But my beams are broken
My doors swelled shut –
Leave me, leave me, leave me, go…
No, we are glad to put out your fire.
You should have let me burn.
~ Julie Eger