Classic Poem

A tiny jar of burnished clay,
And the lingering scent
Of fragrant, fire-spent ashes,
Ashes, recalling vibrant life,
From a distant Orient,
Or exotic clime.

A quiet hour,
And the clinging memory
Of friends, unseen,
Still vibrant,
With the comradeship
Of other days, and years to come,
Untold — eternal.