Post Apocalypse
I walk alone, bewildered, scared to death.
I haven’t any memory... survey
Through ash and try to think...I snatch a breath
And try again. The air is foul today!
I must be dreaming. That’s it! I’m dreaming.
I’ll soon awaken from this craziness
And find myself aright again. Beaming
A smile and laughing at myself, I guess.
But something isn’t right. It’s what I see:
The people, where have all the people gone?
I see homes and autos, some leafless trees.
They are ash-covered phantoms. Begone!
I’ll waken soon. It's only imagined,
A dream. Oh God! Please help me comprehend.
poem by Albert Ahearn
Added by Poetry Lover
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