When the World Is Over

I found this one among all my poems from 1999, but it seems I wrote this one in 1995.  At least, the last digit looks a lot like a 5.  We can just think of it as a little bit of time traveling.  Wait.  We have been living in the past this whole time! ;)  I have about five more poems from before this year.  One more from 1999.  Maybe two.  I can't decide if the one I am looking at right now is one or two.  I'm leaning towards one, though.  And after finding this one from 1995, I'm not even sure if it is from 1999.  There isn't a date, so I will just say it is.  Any way.  Enjoy the poem.

When the World Is Over

Shadows forming in the night
Illuminating over the pale street light.
The poor young boy runs through the town
Until, with a longing cry, he tumbles down.
When the world is over
She shall lie down in fields of clover.
Green and fresh, her world so new.
The boy took wing and flew.
Falling to her knees, she mourns her loss.
But she never felt cross.
He, mocking her pain,
Began to scorn and humiliate her name.
When the world is over,
She will lie down in soft clover.
Green and fresh, her world will be.
And the boy will fall to his knees
Begging for mercy and pleading to be let in.
She only laughs at his tears - he'll never win.
The more he begs, the more she'll bruise his knees.
But she knows everything will change with the leaves.
Winter chills her to the bone.
Freezing all the seeds she's sewn.
When the world is over
She'll lie down in green clover.
Green and fresh her world will be
The see it all so clearly.
And, together, they'll play in ecstasy.

(September 21, 1995)