The Last DayA Poem by David Lewis PagetThe earth had not been breathing For an hour when I woke, So the thought that I’d be leaving Any time, became a joke, There was not that faintest rustle That we think to call a breeze, When the leaves all rub together with The swaying of the trees, And the water lay in stagnant pools Across the dying ground, Where there once had flowed a river but Its stream could not be found. There was silence where there once had been The babble of a creek, If the earth turned on its axis now That day took half a week, And where the tide had used to turn, Advance upon the land, Its waves had ceased to function All it left was drying sand, If that was not enough, its dearth Reflected in the sky, In clouds dark brown like bracken That would crackle up on high. These clouds of louring thunder merely Muttered in their pain, And sent the flash of lightning down But dry, and without rain, And nothing that was living stirred Within my line of view, Not even what I should have heard And so, I turned to you. For there across the counterpane Your lustrous hair was spread, And all my world became insane To know that you were dead. David Lewis Paget
© 2016 David Lewis PagetReviews
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