My grandmother has been smoking since the age of thirteen Barely a decade after from her mother's breast being weaned She's still smoking keenly at the age of eighty-five "How lucky she is" you say, "That she is still alive"
That she was able to enjoy all those years of smoking All those many, many years of constantly choking On the poisonous, unpleasant fumes of the deadly cigarette How lucky she has been, she should have no regrets
Through war, through poverty, through immigrating to afar Always buying, always smoking, from not a day was she barred Every single day a life spent with cigarettes, her friend They have comforted her through all her life until the very end