It's All Smoke Poem by soren Barrett
It's All Smoke
From his pipe sparks fly, in the air its embers soon to die
Ash falling to the ground, inside the bowl a glow is found
Clouds of smoke swirled around, in its fog his image is drown
Leathery aroma masculine type, sweet smell of spice and fruit ripe
All the virtues of an old brier pipe
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12/5/2025 7:15:08 AM # 1.0.0
