Musical chairs for the end of an age. A poem by Michele Witthaus

We might as well get comfortable,
each in the place fate had us land.
Away is gone, beyond our reach.
Each day a new ground zero.
We’re alone together
as the engines of this tired globe
shudder, creak and fall silent.
Everything’s stopped.
No sound now
but the gift of our shared breath.


Michele Witthaus’ poems have appeared in a variety of anthologies and other publications. Currently, the interests that inspire her writing include ethical questions and ideas around sustainability and climate change. She is an active member of Leicester Writers’ Club.

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