I've smoked my last cigarette
I started way too young
Had my first at the age of twelve
Flakes of tobacco left on my tongue
I didn't even inhale at first
I did it as a dare
Stole a Woodbine* off my friends dad
Which four of us had to share
I remember that first retching cough
It almost made me sick
The others laughed, they were old hands
I was dizzy and my head felt thick
A few years past before my second
Behind the bike sheds at my school
I still didn't like it very much
But younger kids thought I was cool
The third was in my army days
By then I thought it was super
I suppose that's really quite ironic
As now they say I smoke like a trooper
The time I always smoked the most was
When out drinking with my mates
But I would always cut right down
When going with girls out on dates
But if they offer me one now
No will always be my answer
What brought about this change of heart
Was when my Father died of cancer
*Woodbine was a cigarette without a filter
weak moments of life. good write. I invite you to read my poems and comment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Quite graphic...cigarettes killed a lot of those we loved over the years but stopping demands its own toll.