Puffs Poem by John kago

His hand falls to his back pocket
pulls out a grubby crooked piece,
it balances between his lips
as his right reaches for the light.
the yellow flame ignites
and dry tobacco crackles softly
as he takes a long drag.
a stream of smoke whistles up to the sky
he smiles at the numbing feel of nicotine.

thick dry coughs interrupt this bliss
he spits to the side, sighs
tick tock goes healths frail clock
maybe its what I need to complete
my final script, the next forsyth
my souls last fete
my ultimate deadline.

he takes another puff with his darkened lips
only time wins in the end, he whispers
to the lady with yellow clips
as he hands her the piece half done
so long she tells him
he smiles long enough i hope
as she takes those puffs face to the sky.