The May of the Triffids

I’ve just worked out why

all my poems are so;

they all seem to be about Triffids,

you know, those man-eating plants

that won’t give us a chance

if we’re blind to the threat that they pose.

I suppose they must live, as must we;

but, it’s not really fair,

if only the Triffids can see.

Well, we’ve had a good run,

some bits were fun,

but, now that the end is in sight,

we should wave our goodbyes,

to a final Sunrise;

and give thanks to those lights in the night. J

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