My Da always smoked Woodbine cigarettes....His tales of the war I remember through the long ago smoke clouds.

woodbine

woodbine smell upon
his friday
night suit
pin stripe blue
and navy sharp as a
dreadnought bow
through lifes north atlantic

tales of man-o-war guns
guarding
white cliff coast as
black booted blondes
from valhalla’s shores
swarmed like vampirical host
for blood

woodbine cloying
smell upon the
hero’s
capstan
turning course from
defeat to
victory

tales of a thousand ships
upon the french sea
bringing remnants home
to lick wounds
that healed
and overcame
despair

tobacco woodbine
smell
acrid
from the pin
stripe depths
of his navy suit

graham