The Day The World Ended Poem by Clyde King
The Day The World Ended
The world ends today
On Sunday, the eighth of May.
Should I let them know?
Would it spoil their day?
Would they just get up
And walk away?
No, no, that won't do.
The hours left are just a few!
Tans would be ruined.
The beer would get warm.
What bad taste.
Such poor form.
The azure sea, the cerulean sky,
Would curse a man as heartless as I.
May 1988
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/5/2026 10:05:53 AM # rel_20260803T153344Z_4267e77
