Smoking Until The End Poem by Randy McClave

She was such a beautiful female
From what I have seen and from what others had said,
And the many times that I have looked at her, without fail
I could see the halo above her head.
It followed her wherever that she went
Very seldom would her halo fade or disappear,
But, whenever that I got close to her, it was the scent
That would irritate my eyes and bring forth a tear.
I still remember her wondrous smile
But, one day soon it would turn into a frown,
As her halo above her head begins to become vile
I know that soon her teeth would soon turn brown.
Her halo, it wasn't neither holy or angelic
What it was, was her own produced cigarette smoke,
Combined with its tar and its nicotine, almost demonic
Senses of cancer in me it would provoke.
Her smile they would outshine all others
But, sadly her smile and teeth someday would be all gone,
She'd smoke a pack or more of cigarettes a day, she smothers
From nerves and tensions, she'd smoke on.
There too was that musty fog scent that was always about her
As the smoke came out of her mouth and her nose,
It stained her clothes and it burnt her eyes, to a blur
I smelled tobacco and not the sweet fragrance of the rose.
Someday soon she will wear a real halo of her own
When cancer takes her life from the constant cigarette smoke,
But, before she enters her grave, she will cry and suffer and moan
As she dies slowly, or suffer, or to be crippled by a stroke.


Randy L. McClave