Time never holds its breath

When you can’t catch yours.

The sun doesn’t forget to rise,

from behind closed doors.

Strength appears from nowhere,

It slips beneath a storm filled cloud.

Allowing us to breathe in its beauty,

To hear nature sigh out loud.

Our world continues turning,

Despite sadness in our eyes.

Or the sound of the earth failing,

The throbbing beat of babies cries.

Our Earth begins to rumble,

Beneath the dying sea-floor.

For the Wildlife, there is no saving,

Sea-creatures will be no more.

Only the cries of number 52

As he sings his lonely song.

No partner tuned in to hear him

His opportunities long gone

Too late, we see the destruction,

Earth destroyed by human greed

It will be with enormous sadness

As floods drown out the last seed.

To hear the facts of no.52 press here

To extend the life of Earth as we know it we must work now. Simply turning the thermostat down 2°, not putting heating on until the evening, wear a sweater if you are cold, think twice before turning on air conditioning, shopping once a month instead of weekly. Use public transport or share space in your car, walk or bike where possible, recycle ♻️, home cook, grow your own,  eat what you need not what you want. These are a few small changes that will help our planet prolong its life. Which do you do? Leave a comment I would ❤ to know. 

Every day I become more fearful for our world if only each of us took it upon ourselves to change one thing … we could prevent my words from coming true.

” What could or do you do to help?” Leave me your thoughts, I love to chat. 😇

Our lonely planet Is left with the worlds Lonliest Whale, singing forlornly in the incorrect Hertz

Florence wears her poppy with pride.
Only a Bloody Mary to sit beside ,
fag a-dangle from painted lips,
burgeoning breasts child bearing hips.
All a-wobble; she waits for the last post.
Lips tremble; as she drinks a silent toast.

A widow of war; his body unfound.
Buried deep beneath foreign ground.
For peace he fought and lost his life,
Bullets, left lonly, a grieving wife.

Alone, eyes all a puddle, she stands.

Silently clasping her shaking hands.

red poppy in bloom

Photo by Maria Orlova on Pexels.com

While, we all remember them.

Do you think my attempt is too fickle for such a poignant rememberance? Leave me a comment its good to talk.

Thanks to the artist of Florence who holds full copyright, giffy for use of tumbling animation. Both poem and poppies are my own.

While We All Remember Them.