Cigar Pack

She held on to a faith too high

While he held out his salary to buy

His monthly load of smoke and dust

A few bottles that would kiss him drunk

 

Another week without a meal

Only a few breaths of cigar and weed

No warm bed, just a stained floor

Another empty shoulder to cry on

 

Her hands were lighter than his

So he taught her the only thing he did

For days, she crept, grabbed and ran

She only wanted gratitude, but he never thanked

 

One day, at night when she worked

A scary old man had her caught

She ran and hid, her face on fire

She swore to stop, and she was no liar

 

So in cold nights in the streets

Beside him, to the merciful she reached

When she felt cold, she searched for his hand

But he was, as always, holding his cigarette

 

"When will he see?" screamed the shadow

When she went to the widow

Where she scrabbed floors for a meal

Or more smoke that had his vision sealed

 

He and the years grew old and stayed the same

She grew too but some part of her seemed to fade

And one day she decided that she had changed

She woke up to the sun and rose from her grave

 

A few years later she graduated from college

And life smiled upon her marriage

Underneath her roof grew a son and a daughter

The colour of her son's eye, was all what was left of her father

 

But one day, a letter came home

He was dying in a hospital known

And when she ran to the ER

He was still holding his cigar

 

Unlit, stuck in his cracked blue lips

But her rage was enough to have it lit

"When will he see?" screamed the shadow

But the smoke in his eyes only seemed to bit on her sorrow

 

Then came the day where is heart crawled and ran

And the smoke cleared for the first time

When he felt cold he searched for her hand

But she gave him back his cigar pack.

 

Author's Note

Hope you enjoy it :)

Reviews

[Paul D. Aronson]

I have always enjoyed poetry or verse that tells a story. The one you weaved here drew me in with the first stanza. The story starts out bleak, but I strongly identify with it, and this is what makes good poetry: drawing the reader in and giving them something they can relate to. Good job. :)

[S.F]

Thank you so much! I am glad you enjoyed it :)

[Jonas]

Very interesting and has a pretty stark meaning. Well done maybe apart from the inconsistency as you seem to scramble for words.

[S.F]

Thank you Jonas :)

[Ruth]

Interesting interaction here, unique and enjoyed...

[S.F]

Thank you :)

[Emily]

I liked it!
Well done!
Keep it up!

[S.F]

Thanks Emily :)