The Cigar
Walking down the alley
Saw a plume of smoke
Stood a little while
Oh, what was on fire?
Out of the bushes
Arose an elfin man
Behold a wicked cigar
Held firmly in his hand
Smoking and puffing
Huffing and coughing
Dragging in the fumes
Blowing rings in tunes
Watching the folks around
Atop his surreal world
Little did he realise
One day would be his demise
The cigar he admired
The smoke he cherished
Freely had he received
Dearly had he paid
Wound and ulcer
Disease and cancer
Qualms and tears
Agony and torments
Cried he in despair
Alas! my love
Brutus you are!
Why thou stab me?
As cigar and smoke, disappeared
Behind the bramble bushes
‘The enemy is within’ I lingered
Walking down the alley
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