The fires in the sky
so beautiful at first now seem dark,
lost.
The craters that once terrified us all,
now glowing water holes,
toxic.
The shells that lay about
collected by innocents
made into charms
jewelry.
The people who survived
distrusting, scarred
some mutated
never to be the same.
The button,
always tempting but never pressed
at least,
not until that day.
YOU ARE READING
The Lonesome Rock and other Poems and Shorts
PoetryWhat does a lonely rock think as it sits all alone? What does the last dandelion do as it waits to be devoured? What happened in the house on the hill?
