The Blazing Sun

At 6:00 a.m., I woke to a sense of unease, A feeling that something was amiss. The kids played outside, birds sang their sweet melodies, But amidst the joy, a sense of foreboding settled within me. I went outside, and my love was tending to the plants, Pouring water with a gentle touch. She saw me, and her warm embrace, Felt like the radiant heat of the blazing sun's gentle clutch. Everyone seemed cheerful that day, Except one bird perched on a branch, its song gone gray. It looked sad, and I climbed the tree to ask, 'What's wrong, dear bird?' It whispered, 'The blazing sun is coming, can't you see?' Suddenly, the earth shook violently, The kids screamed, houses crumbled, and I saw the horror unfold. A blazing sun descended from the sky, Falling, falling, with no place to hide. I rushed outside, and a kid on the street, Smiled and laughed, repeating, 'The blazing sun is coming, can't you see?' I couldn't save anyone; the blazing sun touched down, Exploding into pieces, destroying everything around. My love, my house, the kids, the birds, All gone, lost in the nuclear haze. Now I stand on their grave, Bearing the title, The Nuclear Survivor of 1945.