Twenty Two!

Death Reaper?

He shifted on his death bed,
Knew the Reaper played his game.
The reaper pulled out three fingers
And counted his breath on the tips of each.
He looked up for one last permission,
The reaper smiled and nodded in encouragement.
He smirked and pulled it out,
Took a swing
And released his breath.
The reaper closed his one finger
Waited for next puff of addiction,
He took another swig at life
And glanced around his loved ones; crying.
His daughter clutched his hand
His wife took another,
Distraught yet he was loved.
He released the smoke and they vanished in thin air.
The reaper shook his head
And closed the second finger.
The man looked up in the eyes of his death. The reaper warned,
'Only one more chance.'
But he didn't listen,
And once again dared.
The body shook in withdrawal
And finally the addiction reached it's goal.
The third puff was taken
And the world extinguished.
The reaper stood up,
With a sphinx like smile,
Took his soul out
Left the bud of cigarette flying.