i like my cigarettes

i like my cigarettes and their memories
how i paled and felt green the first time
and walked on my hands and knees upstairs

but how many sunrises with a cigarette and coffee
and how many evenings spread out past the midnight hour
and how many strangers came calling hello and were friends

the cigarette is a death and a life also
where the fork in the road
says no quiz today kid just go right

there is so much tobacco in a discarded cigarette
i need never buy my own
but gather butts and amass a pile of brown gold.

i am a harvester sometimes of tobacco
plant no crops but i go out walking everyday
and gather the buds and take my drags as reward

i am wrought with sadness knowing the day is near
when i must quit and forget even these memories.