Challenge
You're a Pompeiian poet. Volcanic ash is raining down. You write one last poem. What is it?
A white cloud drifts from above
Filling those around me in fear
Yet I am not afraid
The white cloud brings peace
Silence
The people flee
Yet I watch, and wait
I see the beauty of the ash
How it will preserve our lives
I see the future
That many will learn from us
And I feel peace
That my time has come at last
willowBending
It's nice how they see peace in the awaiting