A Cinder That Won't Stay Dead Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

A little more light
What could it mean
What could it be
We all have our nemesis
Like good or bad health
Like a 40-a-day habit
Or a bottle of Malbec
After a workout at the gym
A little more light
It's my internal prayer
No one can hear it
But that doesn't mean it isn't there
You can stub out a cigarette butt
And its cinders still ignite
That's what I'm praying for by the end of this night
Forwards not back — a cinder that won't stay dead.