Smoke Rings

By Aarron Mondello


A great green tree atop a hill
Relaxing in its shade
Is a short man marvelling in
The smoke rings that he’s made

A bowler hat sits crooked
Upon his balding head
Sporting long black pants and shines boots
And a double brass buttoned vest

He packs his pipe bowl full of tobacco
Giggling his mirth and glee
And puffs smoke rings bigger than melons
Into the summer breeze

By some magic or unknown art
They come in every hue
From sunset pink to a forest green
And a nice deep ocean blue

He puffs his cheeks and makes a tree
From its branches he hangs a harp
As it floats slowly away from him
He throws back his head and laughs

Bit by bit through puckered lips
A dragon shows its head
A serpentine body with tiny wings
Done all in a fire red

Dolphins leaping on the the waves
A dog jumps through a hoop
Last of all he makes a plane
That fly’s in loop de loops

He packs away his tobacco pouch
Between his teeth he sticks his pipe
Spreads a bed roll on the ground
And settles down for the night

All through the day he puffed his rings
So many wonders made
No one you’ll see more at peace
Than this smoker in the shade

©Aarron Mondello


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