Throw Them Away
Throw Them Away
By David J Walker
How often I saw him
Sitting,
Smoking
Drinking coffee
Early in the morning
Thinking
Worrying
Perhaps praying?
I cannot say
He would extract an
unfiltered Camel from a
half empty pack ,
the second left over from
each yesterday
Pinched between his lips
He would strike a match
the way he had done it
since he was 10
The sulfur and thin paper
And dried tobacco
Each with its own
distinct aroma
Fill the air with an innocent
Poison
A sophisticated flare
Of maturity
Mixed with percolating
black coffee
I wondered why
He rose so early
Every day
Just to sit in the dark
At the kitchen table
The glow of his lit
Cigarette
The only light
Commanding the complete quiet
Unnatural to house with kids
The “Late in life”
Would come too soon
At the invitation of emphysema
Among the things gathered
To give back to the family
Was a half pack of
Unsmoked cigarettes
Throw them away
I said
Copyright © David Walker | Year Posted 2020
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