Hush, plush

Smoke wreathes the stars,

For Alice is smoking

Delicious cigars.

At breakfast it’s Hoyos,

At tea a Fuente

And still Alice muses  

In smoke rings aplenty

Some pop up the chimney,

Some lurk in the grate,

Some circle her hat brim

And some fly in state.

Each smoke ring’s a pathway,

A memory travelled,

Dimensions distorted

And logic unravelled

As Alice floats back

To a boat in the mist

Where a rabbit’s perpetually

Late for some tryst.

So hush, hush

As smoke wreathes the stars,

And Alice reflects

On delicious cigars.