My cigars came today, and so did I… I opened the box, gazed in breathless anticipation, packing peanuts covered the prize lying within… I dug feverishly through the packing, and YES! YES!! YES!!! (I’ll have what he’s having…) I needed a moment to regain my composure, then I jotted down the Ode to the match.
Ode to the match:
A box, seemingly benign, so inconsequential, but with such potential.
For the coinsure with a predilection, for their collection, a true affection.
At once round and square, oh to have a pack there, to strike with glee, or to keep just for me.
A spark, a flame, a sulfurous wisp, as a moth in a game, burned to a crisp.
To some just a stick, just a match, just a tool, to others a quest, a prize yes a jewel.
If Rudyard was right, a good a cigar is a smoke, then a match is a light but cbid matches are dope!
