Smoker
I billowed calmly as a cloud
Upon a course for acid rain,
When in the fog of smoking crowd,
My lungs collapsed in searing pain.
Full of soot and black with tar,
I coughed in vain for chest to clear;
At least my lungs had got this far
Despite my years of toxic air.
But Smokers' Lounge was home to me,
Where fellow addicts puff with joy:
Our pipes in hand, all friends are we,
‘Let's fine cigars now share, my boy! '
‘So gasp away! ' my motto cries,
‘And light another cigarette
Before a further smoker dies,
Which happens often - you can bet! '
Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2009
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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