Greed is a state of mine.
The Cigarettes are gone. The smoke has cleared.
The sounds of coughing are a distant memory.
In the photo album he still smokes.
In the antique tin box are a couple coins, some
old stamps and a few stained memories.
I remember Dad smoking cigars. Loved the smell but can't remember the name of them now. I know they weren't Cuban!
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I remember Dad smoking cigars. Loved the smell but can't remember the name of them now. I know they weren't Cuban!
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