In my Piped Smoke, I lose myself;
A great fog of a greater leisure
Pronounced in a hairy flame of bright red
Like a volcano erupting inwards.
A feeling of classic authority unveil,
While the milkiness of my
Beloved Long Bottom Weed
Like a hostile friend
Unwelcoming by my body
A splendor cloud of smoke
Swimming across my room, uttering
Whispers of a timeless passion
I watch the Lord of the Rings.
An odd bit, to find myself lost;
Between reality and mythology,
I find myself smoking with Mithrandir & Bilbo.