Smoking my six-hundredth last cigarette
Out of the studio sky-light.
Watching the ash as it rolls down the roof,
Leaving a trail of grey-white.

All through its short life it gives of itself,
Giving and giving and slowly diminishing
Until there isn’t a crumb of it left.
It no longer is,
It’s a snowball in negative.

Wandering home along Marlborough Road
I realize in amazement
That I have been, for how long I don’t know,
Avoiding the cracks in the pavement.

All through this short life we give of ourselves,
Giving and giving and slowly diminishing,
Leaving a mark that will gradually fade.
Ash in the breeze,
Snowballs in negative.