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The Spike or Victoria College Review 1942



Only the quiet and empty lounge
where I stand at the great wide windows
smoking an aimless cigarette.
Around and behind me the hotel is hushed.
The indolent airmen stroll carelessly down-town
in the hush of almost-evening after rain.
Rain-washed streets and fresh lawns,
birds singing of the coming spring
but the lounge lies sullen and stale
exhaling the soul of a million cigarettes
while podgy arm-chairs mock,
in their emptiness
those of my friends who have been here too
—no matter in what town they were—
and now are killed in war.

Indolent, bored—when I should be careless and young—
dissatisfied in the depths of my heart
I smoke my endless cigarettes
waiting for each day to pass
while the slow war drags on.