END OF THE WORLD I
The clasping of hands producing faint echoes
Regarding lost hopes seen in the depth of our eyes
We still gazed and observe life how it went
Because all hopes disappeared within the twinkle of an eye.
Certain years flew
We were hit by birdflu
We became archenemies with birds
We hate their melodious songs
Thinking it was a ploy to get us attracted
Oh to that heavenly creature
Our endearing heart was clouded with disgust
that sulks, but that wasn’t the end of the world.
On the lane again,
We opened our surprisal box
Met another malady, chicken pox
This grew boils on our skin
But this time, we were wise, we didn’t abhor chicken
Because it does our body like you know
That wasn’t the end of the world. Was it?
� Modest King