Tim Spahr shared this poem, which he wrote about 10 years ago.
This shiny black confection,
To the senses a connection,
In my youth, tobacco pretended.
And now, I am sure, the taste is just splendid.
But not for all. The flavor unique,
Not for the picky, not for the meek.
The taste is robust,
Try it you must.
A symphony of flavor.
A memory to savor.
Oh mysteries of life,
Oh powers that be,
Why on earth is it so delightful to me?
Monday, January 17, 2011
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