While pulsing coals contained in grate
a spill brings flame toward the bowl;
the piper’s wail, lament for past
invades the musings under jars.
This Greek frieze terracotta pot,
a tourist pantheon, fake past,
confronts imagined good old days
with flaky memory and shag.
Though painted scene on second urn
sees butterfly on blackberry -
the species gone, the meaning changed,
so undervalued in our past,
cakes of taste now stripped and cut.
In his chamber, first packed then tamped,
over dottle, stummel caressed,
while ring of fire, floats round above,
will-o’-the-wisp to light the pipe.
Aglow rite muse, reflection now,
a retrospective, curling smoke;
this is the only clouded puff
recalled at six, old Grandpa’s mix.
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