Seawall
broken stones fall
along a lone tide beach
standing forsaken remains of
the storm.
     

A clone
of my last love
lives child-like in my house.
I think I would be better off
alone.

Final Whimper

This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
                        - T.S. Eliot

Gray sky,
too old for blue,
even the beach sand is gray
on this last lonely island in
dead sea.

Gray-green
grass grows so slow
that it doesn't change much
on this, the cold and final days
for Earth.

Blood moon,
much larger now,
with black nights very cold,
only the distant sparkling stars
seem new.

Red ball
of dying sun,
silent salt crusted seas,
with freezing winds show earth's last day
is done.