A book to keep weekly entries for the Promptly Poetry Challenge
|Week 2 Prompt: A time when you waved to a neighbor
Last Tuesday Night
Last Tuesday night at ten o'clock
when putting out the cat,
I saw my neighbor walk his dog
while carrying a bat.
I smiled and raised my hand to wave;
he nodded in return.
I noticed fires had spread below
and made the city burn.
"What's going on in town today?"
I asked him with a frown.
"What! Don't you know about the plague
and riot in the town?"
"You mean that COVID-19 thing
that's been around a while?"
"My God, you've missed the tragic news
of people turning vile."
"There's zombies now in Washington
and walking dead in Maine.
The folks 'round here are panicking,
some running for the train."
Just then, a girl jumped on his back
and bit into his neck.
She glanced at me and licked her lips.
Her body was a wreck.
Her dress was stained with blood and gore.
Her eyes were milky white.
She chewed a chunk of something red.
She really looked a fright.
I edged away back to my door
and shut it with a thud,
deciding to stay in that night
and drink my final Bud.
I knew the world I'd known was gone;
things wouldn't be the same.
And after all the fires had burned
no one was left to blame.