No Cigarettes Left Unsmoked

In my father’s world of smoke and dreams,

Where his shadows hid in moonlight beams,

Your children notice not a single cigarette remains,

You smoked the stress of your responsibility chains.

A moment’s pause, a breath between,

In silence, whispers softly fade,

The choice of your cigarette beyond the children you need to raise,

No longer did your smoke leave its trace.

No embers glow, no ashes fall,

No lingering scent lingering the hall,

Just memories of fleeting light,

In a gentle, smoke-free night.

You were gone and it was not a “see you later” but a goodbye.

If a man can smoke and kill his lungs, is too much to ask the man to look me in my damn eyes?

Where your cigarettes leave no stain,

Where the thoughts fade of how you’re so vain,

In the quiet, we find our peace and give you your grace,

With no unsmoked, forgotten trace.

Authors note: I was able to rediscover a very rough patch of my past when it came to my father. I do love him, I miss him, and I understand he’s out there probably doing his best. With this poem, I placed myself back in the age where my father signed a contract with his four children to quit smoking cigarettes. In the middle of the night, I peeked out the window to find him outside smoking a cigarette, and it did hurt because we were really proud of him, thinking he really did quit smoking. We were children then. We’re all adults now, and we’re way past the whole broken contract. I still wanted to deep dive and express how that timeline of events felt and the emotions I didn’t get to express. I hope you enjoy.