improved version!

I read a poem

                about a dresser

                and all the memories it held.

I remembered

                one thing

                in a sideboard.

I remembered

                a long cone shape

                wrapped in cord

                containing something

                hard and dark brown, that smelled.

I never knew

                as a child,

                no one said

                what it was

                it just sat there, darkly, in the cupboard.

I recognised

                the smell

                as I grew

                and wondered

                how it came to be left there, untouched.

I read later

                of Plug Tobacco

                and remembered

                childhood stories

                from my father's war at sea...  and understood.