Ifs, Ands Or
The front of my building has bushes
But also unfortunate gluts
Of something invasive and ugly –
A mountain of cigarette butts.
I’ve never seen somebody toss one –
I doubt if my tongue could be held –
For such utter contempt for the garden
Is certainly unparalleled.
Though smokers must bide by restrictions,
On streets they may puff as they please;
So when time for a toss is upon them,
They answer to no referees.
You’d think they would be diplomatic,
Considerate, civil and kind;
But second-hand smoke and its dangers
Isn’t all that they’re leaving behind.
The next time I notice a smoker,
I’ll follow his trail as he struts,
And gently remind him that Nature
Has no room for his ifs, ands or butts!
Copyright © Ilene Bauer | Year Posted 2012
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment