x
"He Slept at the End of the World"
228Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ15q9YPUvS0
Ed loved his farm, ready for the spring's toil,
With corn for the planter, his heart, and soul in the soil.
At the rooster's crow, from his bed, he'd arise,
To sow the neat rows underneath the cloud-filled skies.
With coffee in hand, he went for the door,
Oblivious to the grim reaper's destination this fine day happened to be March 4th.
The dawn shows its face a glow on the fields wide and fields so far,
While the morning mist danced where the furrows would mar.
The promise of a bounty and a future so bright,
Ed wore his jacket 'gainst the chill of first light.
To his trusty old Massey, red with time's kiss,
He climbed in the cab, he was ready to go and he knew he couldn't miss.
The key turned as always and the engine came to life, a hum and a gentle purr.
He ascended the hill, the day's labor to stir.
The first row was planted, and all seemed to go well,
But he felt a sinister hunch, a foreboding spell.
He gripped the wheel tight so as not to lose control, yet darkness took hold and the tractor marched on
Through the fields and forest behind, it carved a harsh path, down the cliff's side with unstoppable wrath.
Over it went a cascade of might,
Ed's world went fast, slipping into the night.
At the cliff's craggy face, motionless he lay,
His family and friends came but found only dismay.
The cab revealed as they opened the door a stranger, a form mangled and torn,
By the rapid descent, a figure no more
The crash had claimed him, at the world's very brink,
His life now ended, faster than one might think.
In the silence a storm soon brewed.
Ed sleeps forever, his story breathed last.
At the end of the world, in the soil he held dear,
Rests a farmer, a man, whose end came too near.
228Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLcKq34D8QZ
