The Sky was Clear

The sky was clear and the planes were gone. Our city was still and I wept. Saved. I picked a spot on the square and watched as everyone entered.

A report from over there read gone. Half a thousand wiped from our map. Cartographers will have a busy day tomorrow redrawing the map.

Faxmen entered the jail, and released no-one. He placed his cap on the rack and sat at his desk. The lamp was no longer off.

Bells in the clocktower rang, announcing a speech is to be given. Alot can be said by metal.

Mayor Ferdinand was shot in 1911. His grave is in the St. Worth Cemetary. He gave a speech that afternoon.

A pilot landed his plane and ran to the barrack. He was greeted by the hollow shell of forgotten life.

Fish in Crater Pond had no idea of us. They swam amongst their fish homes to their fish jobs.

Ring went the alarm clock. Sitting amongst a pile of wood, the hobo got up from a brilliant dream.

Somewhere in the city, someone will see the mourning sun and think how pretty it is. Isn't it a nice idea?