The Pipe by C. Yarbrough

To fill my bowl and strike a match
And take a puff or two
This old blend my dear old friend
I get to know anew

The smoke drifts up and floats away
Lost to parts unknown
Floating high upon the breeze
To see what can’t be shown

I stay behind with bowl of briar
And wonder of these things
Lost in my thoughts I drift away
And blow a few more rings

This pipe, my friend it comforts me
Whenever I’m alone
Yet lonely not, content in that
Mem’ries seeds are sown.

-C. Yarbrough

This poem was originally published on the Yardism YouTube channel. To read the original, set to music, click here.