Darkest of the days and nights
when demons howl and earth does rock.
A multitude of horrendous sights
as sanity loses its protective frock.
Turmoil churning among the clouds.
Ash falling and smoke billowing up.
Chaos holds hostage the horrified crowds
as lava spews from the earthen cup.
Force devouring all it might find
onward, outward,pushes the flow.
Unleashing power it does grind
pulsating, producing that glow.
Then a deadly silence the deed at last is done.
No man, woman, or child is seen.
No one frolicking beneath the morning sun.
The earth is once more clean.
Fair maiden cry for that lost city of old.
Mourn those taken by the fire.
Though the inferno has grown cold
there yet remains the funeral pyre.
© Copyright 2016 Mistress of Word Play. All rights reserved.