Last Cigarette

My parents weren’t the smoking sort,

They told my sibs and me,

That in a world of healthy choice,

Not smoking was a key.

They two went on a buying trip,

And left me at my friend’s.

(And incidentally, this is where,

My smoking story ends.)

For just one week, they’d be away,

I found myself, aged ten,

The happy week-long dweller

With the best of my best friends.

For several days, all went as planned,

Just her and me and fun,

But then her cousin came, to whom

We small-town girls were dumb.

She took control. My friend and me,

We simply watched in awe.

We learned the gentle art of theft,

 And life outside the law.

My best friend’s cousin stole some change,

And bought a pack of smokes,

I weakly tried to protest,

Yep. Was thinking of my folks.

“Let’s go somewhere we won’t get caught,”

The Cousin said to us,

“We don’t want parents hanging round,

To make a silly fuss!”

She looked at me, “Your folks are gone!

And your house sits there bare.

I sighed. I wanted so to please.

Like a deer in headlights. Snared.

My parent’s townhouse, empty sat,

‘Twas summer—time to farm,

But I knew where the keys were hid

And what would be the harm?

So silent and obedient,

We trailed her to my place,

Crept inside the silent loo,

Put on our bravest face.

She showed us how to ‘light them up’,

 And how to make them glow,

I must admit, I thought ‘twas neat,

I felt mature and old.

Now, I knew that both my folks,

Weren’t due till sometime ‘hence’.

Turns out that phrase means just the same,

S’the one for ‘Present tense’.

My best friend’s sister, posted there,

On bright-eyed watch, was she,

Came running in, “You’re folks are here!”

Not one of us believed.

And then behind her came my mom,

We both were quite surprised.

And I put down my cigarette,

Then paused to be chastised.

“I’m disappointed, dear,” said she,

“I thought we taught you well,

Now you go out and join your dad,

While I dispense this smell.”

With lagging feet, I dragged myself,

To the car, where Daddy sat,

He took one look at my set face,

Was silenced, just like that.

Mom told my dad what I had done,

While they two were away,

And then he spoke. I’ll not forget

The words he used that day.

“I’m disappointed, Hon,” said he,

“I thought you, better, knew,

“We trusted you to live your life,

The way that we would do.”

And with each word, I knew for sure,

I’d smoked my last, because,

I discovered that I wished to be

All my daddy was.

And incidentally, it’s not nice,

When Daddy’s blue eyes turned to ice.

Mondays do get knocked a lot,

With poetry, we three besought,

To try to make the week begin,

With gentle thoughts--perhaps a grin?

So Jenny and Delores, we,

Now post our poems for you to see.

And when you’ve read what we have brought,

Did we help? Or did we not . . .

Next week, we'll share ('Tis just for you),

Our favourite thing to see. Or do!