One Last Drag

Habits die hard. Alcohol, tobacco, drugs. Like an old man, Taking a last drag, From his precious, Hand rolled bugler. So too, does childhood, Have it's share of addictions. Mateo, my grandson, For instance, Is an addict. Hidden under grampa's bed, In a tiny wooden box, Is the drug. Mateo was discovered, And punished, By mommy, and daddy. so Mateo moved, His drug to grampa's house. Mateo enjoys the freedom, Of grampa's house. The freedom to indulge, All day. When mommy and daddy arrive, Mateo runs quickly, To grampa's room. Takes a few sating last drags, And reaches for, The little wooden box, Under grampa's bed. One last drag, With his eyes closed, And his drug disappears, Into the tiny wooden box, Under grampa's bed. Grampa... the enabler. Then he hugs grandma, Finally grampa, waves good-bye, And is gone. Under the bed, In a tiny wooden box, The Pacifier awaits patiently, For Mateo to return. 5/19/14 Alton Texas