Not From Chicago.

One Day Agone

The world ended yesterday;
A flicker at most it gave.
With a scream and yelp some went;
Others went without a word.
And on this moonlit night,
I count... One day agone.

The end left me with none
But my own body and the world around me.
The wide open world was open to me
To roam, to reap, to explore and create.
And on this moonlit night,
I count... Seven days agone.

The end of the world brought hard change.
I, forced to adapt, took to my own.
I help myself, calmed myself, kept myself company.
In my empty world devoid of contact.
And on this moonlit night,
I count... Thirty days agone.

I searched and scoured by and by
For some other person to share.
To have and to hold,
Till Armageddon do us part.
And on this moonlit night,
I count... Three moons agone.

I don't know how much longer
I can survive in this lonesome world.
My whiskers overgrow upon my chin,
And my throat and tongue have fallen silent.
And on this moonlit night,
I count... Six moons agone.

And yet the world still has all of its people,
Though they're all invisible to my eye.
And much contact I've had for days,
Though I haven't felt it much.
And on this moonlit night,
I count... One year agone.

I don't know how much longer,
I can survive in this lonesome world,
So I decided not to. I climb up and up,
And I leap to the black fire below.
And on this moonless night,
The extinct world counts... One day agone.