for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt
As I’m not a smoker, this sprinkling of words is about as fictitious as it can get!
I lounge before a crackling log fire, in one hand a bulbous glass of fine vintage port, in the other a Montecristo cigar.
I taste cedar wood, wild spices and cherries. Fragrant clouds rise then drift away as the music of Mozart wafts over me. I relish an hour of perfect peace and easeful contentment.
When my idyll draws to a close I sigh, for the end of a good smoke is like losing a friend who took the time to sit and listen.