Smoking
Quit smoking, her son laments
as she takes a drag
from her
kingsize kents
You smoke too much, he cries
as tears fall down her face
from smoke blowing
into her eyes
You'll be sorry, he quips
as she swears while
her fingers slide down
the lit tip
That's the last pack, he demands
As the nicotine stains
disfigure her
hands
Some day soon I'll try
she says,
as her son frowns
with a sigh.
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Note: In March I will have 3 years abstinent from smoking !! This poem was
written in the 1970's.
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