Sam Glaspy turns smoke from incense into a person: a beautiful girl the speaker has loved all his life. Whether she comes from a cigarette or a fire, she always leaves her scent behind, like a keepsake from a visit. Today the speaker tries to confess his feelings and offers his hand, hoping to dance to a Tchaikovsky violin concerto he loves. But smoke can't be held, so she dissolves at his touch. She apologizes, and he shrugs it off. She fills his senses instead, and the two end up circling each other in curling ringlets.
The mood is tender and a little wistful. The speaker is gentle about the rejection, and the dance feels intimate even without contact. Still, the ending carries sadness: the incense will burn out and she will go. He comforts himself with the lingering smell, which he reads as proof that she loves him back.