The cigar smoke fills the air,
While nearby, completed crossword-puzzles crowd the table top.
The tan overcoat, the gray hair, the unshaven face, the brown eyes
All give one expression, one emotion: deep thought.
The mind races, remembering the “Old Country,” his Danny and his one True Love,
Remembering the determination, dedication, and drive to receive his degrees.
The cigar smoke fills the air.

Leadership, oratory, teaching, love, and life all belong to him,
Keeping faith and heritage, helping and healing.
The books pile up along the walls, some old, others older,
Just like the hands, the face, the scars, the eyes - not like the mind, not like the heart.
The cigar smoke fills the air.

Montreal is now his home, his humble house on top of the hill,
But his wisdom and wit, lessons and allegories still speak out with his shining smile.
The cigar smoke fills the air.

The cigar smoke fills the air.