Ciggy

She is my darling
The joy of my heart
She shares with me
My joys and grief
My heart my life
I ‘caress’ her, I love her
As I hold her and kiss her every time
My lips yearn to kiss her more!
She touches my lips, nay,
rests hers on them
as smoothly as a silken doll.
Kissing her again and again
breathing her exuberance in
I get new life every time!
She’s too dear to me
too dear, I must admit
She is no ordinary glam
but a Phoenix in her own form
She never leaves me
nor leaves me alone
most of the day or night
in hail, rain or storm!
She is a paradigm or endearment, of nearness,
styled as filter tipped pencil of fine Virginia tobacco
gently rolled into my sweet Ciggy!

For a second, I thought you were talking about a dear pet dog. The cigarette can be as good as a dog, at times. Although I have given them up, but I still enjoy one from time to time.

You have great passion for the smoke as is evident by the enthusiasm found in your poem.