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From the box I one do pick And proceed To light the stick Smoke rises, spiralling, Into the air While I sit back in A comfy chair Wind blows it through The kitchen door An ancient smell From days of yore Wind takes it up And takes it down Drifts it by The telephone It bends and dances Through the room Auspicious odour Dispelling gloom Scent that pleases well the nose Gradually through the house it flows While Bach plays on the stereo Worries, hassles, Let them go ---(Peter Elliott)---
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