The Final Melody (a poem)

A dirty book of music, with one page torn out, lies open against a window overlooking a wooded area, within an abandoned kindergarten in the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone.

The sky is still blue,
yet my happiness wanes.
Under the weight of words,
the melody strains.

I struggle to find
the right things to say.
Searching for meaning

on this burdensome day.

For so many years
I found hope in you.
Though, lately I’m finding
it harder to do.


As our world falls apart,
the epoch at it’s close,
with no-one left to visit
as we lie in sad repose.

So, write it all down
chronicle what remains
as the human race plays out
our last melodic strains.

~ elr


Image: ID 180727054 © Beata Tabak | Dreamstime.com

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