Grampa

A Tribute in Smoke and Memory

I smelled a pipe yesterday
and wondered if you traveled with the wind.
I remembered your flappy hands
and rippling folds of soft dark skin.
Your chuckle and suck
between rings of smoke.
"Hey boss" you always used to say
making everyone feel big.
But no one was as grand as you.
Your glasses were three sizes too big
for your narrow, sallow face,
especially near the end.
But how their dark amber rims
magnified your soft oval eyes.
And always made me feel
like I was the center of the world
every time you gazed upon me.
Your pipe's part of the reason
you're no longer here.
But its rings will forever surround me

like scented wind.

A poem by Pemba Umoja