Post by AquarianM on May 2, 2006 at 10:22pm
Tobacco Shop Mystic...He enters the world in a cloud of cigar smoke,
Natural wrapper - fat, long, slow-smoking.
Time pulls into a wrinkled cloud around him,
Slows down and lends a soft cherry glow to everything in the room.
His eyes are difficult to catch,
Wandering between far-off meditation and piercing,
They see things his hand sprawls across a page,
Slightly yellowed pages with a simple and comfortable pen.
He looks best engulfed in a huge leather chair,
Thick and sturdy chocolate brown,
Made for moments like this.
He could tell you a thousand tales and more,
You never know the real from the instructive,
Yet they are saved for his pen,
You must seek out the smoke of the yellow pages,
In the places he lays them,
Waiting for those meant to find each.
The yellow walls recall another era,
Filled with images - portals to other places and times,
Can you unlock the words that open them?
Dark wood and glass display cases,
Lit to display books of magic,
Talismans bejeweled of travels yet to be,
Of course they hold the cigars,
The sacred fuel of time warping,
A scent that lingers in deep dark corners.
The hum of the fans is mesmerizing,
Sit - stare at the clean green of a stiletto palm,
A large terra cotta pot in the corner.
Light a cigar and open a book,
Keep a pen and notebook close by,
Perhaps you'll find a piece of the universe close to hand,
Sipping cognac slowly in a time bubble.
Only you know if there is magic here.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 04/30/2006