ODE TO SMOKERS

 

Ode to the Smokers’ Soirée
(A Florida Friday Night Delight)

Beneath the stars, in evening’s glow,
Where smoky whispers gently flow,
A crowd once gathered, bold and bright—
To toast the joy of Friday night.

No formal plans, no RSVP,
Just word-of-mouth and esprit de vie.
Sharon, our queen, with libations in hand,
Prepared the feast, and made it grand.

David, with grace, took up the floor,
Made sure all hearts were fed—and more.
He welcomed each soul with a laugh and a cheer,
No one went hungry, forgotten, or mere.

Reggie, the bard with a Bluetooth beat,
Spun songs so smooth they stirred our feet.
Some swayed, some danced, some just tapped a shoe—
But all of us felt the rhythm ring true.

We lit our smokes with stories shared,
With sass and wisdom, none were spared.
A gathering rare, a wish in the dark,
A flaming reminder of our inner spark.

No age can dim the joy we bring,
No rules restrain the songs we sing.
Worldly, witty, warm and wise,
We toast to life beneath open skies.

And now a plan, as stars align:
Each Friday night, a toast, a sign,
That joy lives on in our little crew,
With smoke, and stories, and something new.

So raise your glass, your cane, your light,
To friendship found on Friday night.
Our sassy circle, ever bold—
Where no one’s young, but none feel old.