The End

The End

Hat crammed onto my head I walk

the streets. Nowhere to go now we have failed

ourselves for the last time. Elbowing through dirty

crowds of lost souls, I trip over a warm groaning body.

Sweating and feeling not unlike a corpse myself

I contemplate the glaring truth; we are all

beyond help. Finally, I spy the

park! Amazingly it’s

quiet here most

seek the

churches.

On my

bench

I sit

alone.

I can

see

the

end

from here

as I watch the mushroom cloud blossom.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2015

Shared on 3/6/2020 with my friends at dVerse~Poets Pub for Open Link Night #261. Because of the virus scare and all of the bad news recently, I decided on an old poem about The End I’ve never shared before except with a class with WordPress.