Warm wood of a pipe remembers
How frail strings of smoke danced and faded
Between gentle touch of my fingers.
Its depth keeps well known and cosy
Aroma of prunes in the autumn,
That takes me back home - near a fireplace.
While Destiny writes on the water
With ashes and breath and dim cinder,
Tobacco lays soft honeyed kisses
And leaves bitter tasted farewell.
It lasts till pipe's heart is awakened
By flame of a match once again.