This Is The End Poem by Steve Forde

The spotlight goes out and the curtain falls;
The players withdraw to polite applause.
Close all the windows and lock all the doors
For this is the end.

Emerging to find a dusting of snow
We wander away with nowhere to go.
You take my hand, but it's only for show;
For this is the end.

Our footsteps follow the deserted streets
To the silent house where our children sleep
And the years lie heavy beneath our feet
For this is the end.

We finally run out of things to say.
You don't look back as you hurry away.
I wish it didn't have to be this way
But this is the end.