Addiction

I step outside, a days work done,
As twilights' brief lights wane,
Where I came upon a startling sight
One thousand words could not portray.

I spied upon a dying man,
gaunt and frail confined to chair,
Share precious time with his grandchild;
Just six years old, long locks of hair.

His sunken eyes on her were fixed,
In front of him she stood unmoved.
The breeze in'er hair the only sign
This canvassed scene nay be disproved.

Wasted cruel and slow from his disease,
This gent of deathly fragile state,
What lifes lessons will he lament
To guide his childrens' childs' fate?

His movement slow he stirs in place
To lean towards her solemn pose,
Fierce concentration sets his face,
His wisping hair untended blows.

Each second counts on life near ended.
What happened next I fear not forget;
To watch her hands move from her dress
And light him one more cigarrette.

(I witnessed this scene years ago leaving work from a Cancer Institute. Ive never forgotten it and only now decided to put it in words. I dont think I can ever do it justice, and I dont think I ever truly want to.)