I can’t remember the last time
I saw a white cloud
Used to lie in the grass and make designs
While their delicate lines I browsed

But now all that’s left are these grey skies
The ashes float like leaves
I’m not sure what they disguise
Perhaps someone’s memories

The gunshots I heard the other day
The only signs of life
I can’t stop thinking of the dichotomy
They likely came as someone died

Wise white trees in the light breeze crack
Like staccato existential cries
The branches they fall to the dried tracks
As if leading me to a surprise

I walk the country I’ve not seen a soul
For thousands of hours now
All I have for company is the sound as I stroll
And these songs that have come to me somehow

The birdsong has long since gone
Now I just wake to the wind
It used to whistle its way through the corn
Now it just howls in sin

I stumble on and look for food
But it’s harder and harder to find
To my death these houses now allude
Abandoned and for everything mined

There’s a metal silo in the distance
It clangs and it creaks
The optimist hears offers of assistance
Though I know the outlook is bleak

I walk around, someone’s already been
Piles of empty tins of beans
I kick them at a figurine,
What the hell do my actions mean?

I walk the country I’ve not seen a soul
For thousands of hours now
All I have for company is the sound as I stroll
And these songs that have come to me somehow