How It Could Have Turned Out

A poem

And slowly though the fires show a lowly incandescent glow

Warmly through the trees, they show

Behind the vines

And in a time

That none shall ever know

For many years before

In days of yore

When life was grand

And full of plans

That have become no more

A storm of flames

That came from planes

And so they missed

And with a hiss

To the end the world came

When suddenly

There came swiftly

A loud alarm

A calls to arms

There was a fast reprieve

Detecting a blast

They acted fast

Replied in kind

and with a blind

A blindingly loud blast

That was the world’s last

Despite all that had amassed

For the final time

A baby cried

A mother loved her lass

No more was love

No more was pain

No more, no more

For they all went up in flames

And in their place

An endless space

Full of loss, endless loss, never to be regained