Air In Tanks Poem by rose flores rosevoc2

Free air is paid in tanks
sustaining the last lung of the earth,
seeking some more hours to live here,
forward the trek.

Life is short like
the fire in the wick;
as nature bestows to others
it takes back in bulk.

Beautiful space stark as
meteors, heat, and ice -
Scent of a baby,
fragrant as dew,
cuddling as a lover.

The rage is poison
from nuclear mess.

So the air is paid in tanks
for some more hours to live here...