March 13,
1983 9:30 a.m.
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
Nonsmoker's Lament
Everywhere I look I see the ashes
I see the ashes blowing outwards from the breeze
The smoker never sees these awful ashes
As he puffs away responsibilities
Every time I breathe I smell the ashes
And they lock within me laughing with pure joy
But the smoker never cares about these ashes
As he drops them on the heads of girls and boys
I clean and clean but can't clean up the ashes
When I make an attempt the ashes blow away
They never seem to land anywhere near the ashtray
With every breath they scatter in the air to play
Everywhere I look I see the ashes
End product of the smokers with their fire
And I can never flee from all these ashes
The world will always reap these ashes
from the pyre.
copyright 1999-2004 by Michael F. Nyiri
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