Abigail Cole Poet Free verse

A Childhood Friend

It was a normal day,
The day he had his first puff.
Children played beneath the sun,
And weary songs filled the air.

Time didn’t stop as he’d been told,
Not even the old man cast a glance
As he stammered, "A pack of cigarettes, please."

Between his fingers, he held the cigar,
For the first time, he felt in control.
With a spark, the lighter flickered,
His eyes gleaming as flames danced.

His mother, who always knew it all,
Had no idea what happened behind the kitchen door.
He took a long drag as the tip met his lips.

Choking, laughing—
He had finally broken a rule.
With a second drag,
He knew what pride felt like.

Days turned to nights,
And the kitchen door creaked.
He lit a cigarette, staring into his mother’s eyes—
It gave him courage, like a king.

From a pack a day,
To twenty just to feel okay,
To losing count,
Because all that mattered was the unfulfilling drag.

He no longer remembered his mother’s voice,
Nor the faces of his siblings.
Each day blurred into the next,
And he worked hard to keep it that way.

Now in the doctor’s office, he sat,
Feeling his bones beneath fragile skin.
The doctor spoke as if he had a choice—
"A few years without smoking, and you'll live."

But all he heard was that hope was gone.
For years, he could have let go—
But he could never forsake
His childhood friend.

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