A heavy unease rests in the air,
foreshadowing bad things to come.
It clings, the smell of cigar –
musk of death.
The very air is charged with tension;
Walls crack and the ground unsteady.
Fear has been let in
and Panic has come a-knocking.
This day of ends,
not a sliver of silver is in sight.
Photo credit: overseastom / Foter.com / CC BY-NC-SA