Cigar

the heavy white smoke paints the night sky
it rises, slowly, a thick cloud of relaxation
the warm comfort fills the solitary hours
with a million images
like an old friend who has time to sit and listen
its peacefulness numbs the sorrows
a calm fire on one end
rhythmic in its enjoyment
recovering a forgotton communication with ones self
it takes me back to the front porch
sitting on Grandpa's knee
his aged voice and the soothing aroma
rock me to sleep on his shoulder