by Julie A. Dickson

Tendrils of smoke
crossed rays of sun,
shone through gauzy curtains

Grandfather’s two-toned brown pipe
was filled with tobacco,
Cavendish scent

My young nose abhorred cigarettes
but his intriguing two-toned brown pipe
emitting such a rich fragrance
drew me in

I moved close enough
to taste the aroma on my tongue

His eyes closed as he drew in;
I watched and then closed
my own eyes