"On visiting my father day to day"

A smoke free zone that's what the sign said, whilst walking towards the atrium and holding my breath, passing dressing gowns and smoking pj's,

I turned my nose down into my cloths, having picked up the familiar stench through the haze.

I thought I might take the lift up today, but not with that pregnant mother in her dressing gown, she's just come back holding her packet of pleasure, so now I take the stars, the staff have the right idea, they know the score, as those in the lifts have recently come back from fulfilling their need.

On my return seeing another through the atrium door enjoying a mutual pleasure sitting with her young chap, on passing by the wheel chair the cider cans rest, others sitting on the cold ground with their electronic cigarets, flavoured clouds of steam envelope me now, misted with almonds, is it the same smell as cyanide? walking over countless flattened cigarette butts on the chewing gum encrusted path,

I've now passed the gauntlet, I can breath easy, until tomorrow at the same time, here to brave the bully of my abused lungs.