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Lucky Strikes was his cigarette
Soothing his nerves from what he could expect
He had been at war since ‘43
And his War story had been something to see

It was his unit’s turn for the front line
And he knew the next weeks would not be kind
The sergeant called break and they went to ground
And with his friends they gathered around

He took his Lucky Strikes from his pocket
And slowly opened the wrapper of the packet
There had been other battles that he made it through
Not wanting to jinx himself he knew what to do

One of the cigarettes was taken out
And he reversed it in the packet for luck it was about
He would leave this cigarette to last one
Wanting to be alive to smoke means he won.
	
© Paul Warren Poetry

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