The Last Day

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The dawn was slowly breaking and in the forest deep, the young and trembling leaves unfurled refreshed from night time sleep,

A sleepy bird soon came awake aroused by natures clock, he raised his head to greet the dawn
and others of his flock,

In the little farmhouse movement can be seen, an old man walks to fetch the cows across the
fields of green,

In the houses of the town nearby the children are about, fathers rushing breakfast as to work
they hurry out,

The scene is oh so peaceful on this lovely summer morn, another warm day coming say the
colours of the dawn,

But Wait, Look at the hillside, there, where the trees are bare, like an ugly evil bird of prey
that radar scanner there,

Connected to that awful eye that spins around and round, there lies a chamber very deep
beneath the forest ground,

And in that place of endless light and never ceasing sound, men sit staring horrified at what
that eye has found,

CONDITION RED, the speakers blare, NO DOUBT THIS TIME IT’S TRUE, QUICKLY FIRE, RETALIATE, WHAT ELSE CAN WE DO,

And now across our summers morn go missiles streaking fast, some fly east and some fly west
but fore e’re lands the last, this world we know and claim we love is torn apart with a blast,

No more will a little bird greet the rising sun, no more little children to laugh and play and run,
no more will an old man tread through fields of green, and on this scorched and blackened earth
no like will e’re be seen.

Well now my friend rest easy for this is just a poets mind, But has it made you think some are you now perhaps less
blind,

Then help me please I beg you tell others what you see, and maybe we can help prevent this horror that could be.

By Michael Gouland

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