Sitting by the window in the house when it would rain,

I lit another candle just to blow it out again.

The smoke would writhe throughout the air and flow up to above,

And at the way it wriggled I knew that I was in love.

It cut like a knife through the atmosphere and the window I would lift,

And watch as it flew up to the sky; for God a little gift.

It's like a trick, the way it lifts itself into the air,

And mock such an inventive gift from God I wouldn't dare.