Sun Down In El Paso
Hank loughs with guilt
thought while the smoke
of cigarrattes tingle
in his mouth.
He has neumonia, "for God sakes"!
But he enjoys smoking until
the last drag.
Finally there is a silence, like a chapel
on Sunday mass; little rings bells
at the distance sounds.
Our friendship is tight
he gave me his hand to pull him up.
The silence remains in the chapel
of his home, another puff, onemore puff,
the last puff.
The bells, still ringing
he has chest pain, but latter a releif
by a glass of ice coffe.
We joke between puffs, we know
life is short; let celebrate our dreams.
Time passed by and the silence in the
chapel remains untouched,
one more whisper, one more drag
he falls sleep with a childish face,
all his worries are gone.
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