No Soul Descried
~ No Soul Descried ~
He sauntered out and rubbed his eyes
No soul descried, left or right
Were all the rumors true, not lies?
Mid-day the hour, not dark midnight
He scratched his head, pressed on downtown
There, windows boarded, sealed up tight
Deserted sidewalks, void of sound
Most all stores shuttered, dark their lights
Now stares at him a frightful sight
Two heads, four eyes; test-tube, thin frame
His ray gun gleaming -- Awful plight!
The human prays, his life fair game
"Am I alone? Last man alive?"
God paused and smiled: "Hand-picked ~ Survive!"
Iambic Tetrameter
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