One Last Cigarette Poem by Randy McClave

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