Coffee And Smoke 1968
The scent hangs in the air...A 50-word prose poem
The scent of instant coffee with sugar, sweet and bitter, rises from my mom’s cup. It’s washed and put away on the expanding wooden mug rack, where all the other stained cups live.The scent hangs in the air, mingling with her cigarette smoke. My eyes burn.
Ah, the good old days. I can almost taste that picture. My eyes burn, also, Sharon!
The scent of cigarette smoke always reminds me of my father-in-law. It's funny how nolstalgic one can become at the smell of something so bad to one's health...