Cigar

It was that time of year again

When memories placed a smile on the saddest face

And transformed it into an expression of joy

Even as it yearned for a connection

To renew a heart forever broken

It was that time of year again

To rotate his father’s “babies”

And to touch his fingertips again

Rearranging each one

Admiring their supple veins

Maturing to a luxurious golden patina

It was that time again,

A celebration of existence

A reaffirmation that nothing really dies,
That everything is constantly reborn

Even in the bouquet of a fine smoke