The Relationship of Dreams and Smoke

I wish I could remember my dreams
Each morning I wake up
and try to grab onto the smoke
that is quickly vanishing
incorporeal
unobtainable
In desperation I reach my hands into it
Grasping a word here
a place then an image
bits and pieces nonsensical
that I cant form into any sort of coherency
And I open my hands
and am left with a residue of that smoke
a reminder that I once had something
that I cant ever get back again