My wife became a smokeless-zone,
October ninety-four;
She said: 'I've had enough of these,
I'm smoking them no more.
They haven't done me any good,
And cost me lots of money;
To work out the exact amount
Would not be very funny.
To smoke like all my mates
I thought a clever thing to do;
We laughed behind the teacher's back
While puffing in the loo.
But in the end, just like they say,
The last laugh was on me:
I'm only thirty-two, and yet
I feel like forty-three!
At last I've realized that
From lung cancer there's no cure;
I'm just so glad I've packed them in,
This time for good, I'm sure.'
(Written Oct 1994)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great decision. Old chap I like your down to earth poetry. So hard to find in these creative writing days of free verse.You get it said