Nov 03
poem 0 comments challenge: Sprout

After the end of time

The clocks stopped two hours ago. Or so we think. 
There isn’t really anyway to tell, of course. 
They let us go from school early, 
except cars didn’t work, phones didn’t ring,
clouds didn’t move, birds hung suspended in the air, motionless. 
“Yay, no school!” the younger kids yelled obliviously,
though us older students knew something was wrong.
There was nothing we could do, 
so we all simply walked home. 
Our phones didn’t work, 
the TV stuck on a shampoo commercial,
the model’s glossy hair filling the screen silently. 
The leaves wait in the still wind, 
acting like large snowflakes caught in a snapshot. 
As time seemed to pass, the sun did not say goodbye, 
hitting obnoxiously and unrelentingly upon the ground. 
Night never filled the sky.
Tiredness hit us with no remorse in the midday light,
and when we wake up, 
nothing has changed.
Is this to be the end of time?
Where do we go from here?
What even matters anymore?
What are we supposed to wait for?

(Thank you, atnedojumper, for writing your beautiful "Empty" poem!)
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