The world ended at dusk on a Sunday.
A mournful dusty red sun slowly dying
behind a cold silver barbed wire fence.
The child fractured into two at twilight.
A free barefooted spirit plays on a farm
as his clenched jawed mirror splinters.
The fabric that is love ruined in summer.
A slender, muted coloured, knotted cane
engraving painful abandonment in pairs.
The arrival of autumn leads the homeless.
A cavernous emptiness growing gradually
at the fortified gate of disappointment.
The doomsday crib of survival completed.
A protective shell to hide what is valuable
from the gnarling looters at witching hour.
The flowers of bereaved bloom in black.
A crude altar hastily erected in memory
of the premature death of the childhood.