He picked up the glasses <br />from where they lay <br />and put them on <br />and as he looked around <br />his face paled with his shock. <br />Everything was desolate and dead. <br />Building stood black scorched beyond repair, <br />everything felt cold and dank <br />as if he were in a city of the dead. <br />The grass beneath his feet <br />was withered and brown. <br />Skeletal trees stood blackened <br />as if by some great fire. <br />The sights he saw frightened him. <br />He made a move to run <br />and tripped over a rotting corpse. <br />As he fell, the glasses <br />were tossed upon the ground. <br />As he rose his eyes widened, <br />everything was green again <br />and the glass were no were to be found. <br />Was this a vision of his future he had seen? <br />Only tomorrows knows. <br /> <br /> <br />31 October 2009<br /><br />David Harris<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/halloween-quartet-no-2-the-devils-specs/
