POEM: Lulled into the End Times

The criers are calling, “The End is nigh!”
as boats are languidly rolling offshore.
Their sway, it sings a kind of lullaby,
and by rocket glare, I begin to snore.
No one has slept through a world war before,
and though I might well die before waking,
I will be spared the futile bellyaching.

1 thought on “POEM: Lulled into the End Times

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