Farewell

The wind blows cold and desolate  over empty streets.

The silent houses, dark sentinels, watching, waiting.

A bicycle, a wagon, a few toys, scattered in a yard.

Mute testimony to a happier time.

No grass grows, nor flowers bloom.

None escaped Man's encompassing doom.

The architect of destruction, in the name of progress,

has finally ended his long reign of terror.

The one enemy he could not defeat,

Turned out to be himself.

Farewell.

Reviews

[Al-itzah]

I love the subtle detail of this piece.
such as the font itself, becoming steadily smaller.
the emotions were conveyed and the flow of it is intricate.
I look forward to your next entry.