The moon is distant.
The stars keep their distance.
Trees and grass retreat from sight.
The ice caps recede daily.
Soon they will be memories
of the destruction, we have wrought.
YOU ARE READING
ALL WILL BE GONE
PoetryThe moon is distant. The stars keep their distance. Trees and grass retreat from sight. The ice caps recede daily. Soon they will be memories of the destruction, we have wrought.
