Golfing with Cigars -- For Stefan

I lay awake tonight, allowing
Myself to remember
The smell of onion fields
And how they looked too,
Alongside the 4th fairway;
The taste of a sweet cigar,
And the feel of it --
The rolled paper, wetted
Against my lips,
As we stand on the 18th green
With fresh cut grass under bare feet,
And the setting sun in our eyes.
I am reminded,
Now some five years later,
That these things took time.
And even more so -- that their scarcity
Is what gives these things
Their meaning.