Excellent Lament for the world and our moments in it Apocalypse : Apocalypse pt. 14 by estory

I think of this world now at its end, thinking of what will be left behind. This light illuminating the autumn leaves, this wind in the treetops, Those tiger lilies in my mother's garden. The rain. The snow. The far off mountains. Oceans and islands out in those oceans. A glass of wine. A lady's face. The outlines of a figure in a silk print dress. The smell of coffee, the smell of apple pie. Fresh baked bread. Old photograph albums. Hand me downs. Chocolate. Music. Girls at a party trying to catch your eye. The stars glittering in the far off Milky Way. Bluebirds. Cardinals. Monarch butterflies resting on a butterfly bush. Clouds brightening in a sunrise. Evening. Christmas trees. Candlelight. The sounds of a train whistle as a train pulls out of town. Author Notes As twisted and defaced as this world has become, we still had our moments in this place God created for us. We still had our joys and moments of glad grace, as Yeats would put it; our loves and our delicacies. And maybe we will miss something of it in the next world, or dimension. This poem is a backward look, remembering those joys here; a celebration of the moments we enjoyed in this world as it goes through the eye of a needle. estory

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