One a day, he couldn’t do without,
Making some excuse, he’d go out,
A puff in the rain, he did love to do,
Addicted he became, he wanted few.
He tried to stop, for help he did ask,
But he found to stop, was too big a task,
He threw away, the packets he had,
But without them, he just went mad.
Wanted he so much, to just quit,
In the end, he only stopped trying,
Puffing away, a dozen a day,
Poor old fella, didn’t realize he was dying.
One fine day, he said goodbye,
To the world he did love so much,
He had had his last puff, his last breath,
A final puff, till the unavoidable death,
Did take him away from misery such
My friends, never be like him,
Don’t puff, and make your life sad,
You take away, your life from you,
From those who so dearly love you,
Throw it away, do that and be glad.
Prompted @ One Single Impression.