When the end comes
it's not announced by trumpets,
nor by red carpet to welcome it.
When the end comes,
it's manifested in deaf ears,
and in sharp words that sting.
are stored away like
ornaments after Christmas.
Silence gnaws like
acid on metal,
the exterior still shinny and gleaming.
Green fields turn brown
Halfway roads are less traveled,
the cold hangs in the air,
even though the sun is shinning.