Friday, 24 March 2017



As you take me,
your life goes up in the smoke,
in clouds of grey and white,
someday you shall die of stroke.

I burn at the tip,
give a glow to every bit,
& rule the hearts of rich,
& trick every poor.

I came to you
187 years ago,
I embedded a mark,
one cannot easily let it go.

From stress to happiness,
I don`t leave your back,
slowly & steadily
you shall vanish in my trap.

But you have to pay the price
for the pleasures of fag,
you will soon be weak,
for fresh air you will gag.

I`ve made a web,
web near your heart,
I own your chest,
it`s not easy to pull me apart. 

Tobacco wrapped up thin
& held in paper,
flicking in your mouth,
made you feel safer.

Your skin might wrinkle,
you might soon look old,
small mistakes added, will
put your life on hold.

Hope you realize
your existence is very precious,
for your babies & your wife
for whom you are their whole life.
                                                                                  - Sanjana Bhate.