Silence is in that dust;

With frost floating by peacefully.

Yet no cloud of comfort exists here.

‘Stead a bony hand of the Reaper himself

Clutching souls left and right,

Choking the life out of dimming souls

Who writhe with fear…

In a terrifying nuclear winter.

Frames as remnants

Both steel and marrow

Strewn through ashen snow…

And tattered cloths

Like splintered logs

Lay in the depths of destruction

In the chill of a nuclear winter.

Some life remains in the layer beneath;

Ghosts of flowers that used to be.

But the harsh conditions

Blew through with force

Making the fatherless son and

The mother bereaved

Huddle together for comfort

From the devastation of a nuclear winter.