It was March. Sunny spells weren’t enough
To allow him take off his copper coat just yet.
His hands were buried deep down his pockets
Fiddling with something. I was wondering
What was that he held on to when there was a spark –
With a click, the lighter offered us a mesmerizing flame.
‘Do you smoke?’
‘No, never have. It’s just a habit of having it around’
‘Careful. Don’t hurt yourself’. Looking at another
Shine just above the horizon I thought –
It’s me who may be hurt,
Should
you
be a lighter.