One Last Cigarette

Though he knew that he was very sick That smoking habit he could not kick So in the hospital he went and stayed And we at home just sat and prayed. He smoked when we went to visit him Then he lost a tooth and became very slim He still joked and laughed as he did before While inside his body there was a war. In the garden where he went for his walk There to me and others he would talk His only worry was for his wife the dancer He then told us that he was dying from cancer. Then we all walked back to his room There I could feel the sadness and the gloom But he worried not for himself or even his life All that he worried about was his wife. He would eat what little he could eat But smoking his cigarette was still a treat He would laugh and joke and sport his smile Never once was he angry or even hostile. Every night before my brother went to bed He would say his prayers then lay down his head Then one morning I awoke and I did weep My brother had died last night while he was asleep. On his nightstand was the last cigarette he did smoke He then fell asleep and he never awoke One last cigarette is what he wanted to enjoy Now one less person for cancer to destroy. Randy L. McClave