Smoke Break...

Day by day, the pile grows. Coffee tins fill with burnt filters and cigarette ash, like an hourglass, mocking the wasted time. Wasted to whom? Definitely not to those leaning against the cold concrete wall, forgetting the work ahead of them, even if just for the count of one grain through the sandglass. Tar smoke rests heavily on the lungs, until it is ready to be rejected into the frigid air. Continuing until the cigarette feels warm between the smokers finger tips, then it falls the distance into a coffee tin, perhaps to bounce and rebound onto the stained floor. Yearning for a fresh breath, the break ends, welcoming the cleanliness of the tar free work space.