A geologist’s love song

When all that’s left of London is a pile

Of trendy rubble on the ocean floor,

When Everest’s a gentle, rolling mile

And the blue-green Orinoco flows no more,

When poison arrow frogs and parakeets

Paint a jungle sprung from Egypt’s sand,

When thorn trees offer shelter from the heat

That bakes Alaska’s dry and dusty land,

When our race takes up its place beside T. Rex

As ‘Homo Sapiens – Exhibit A’,

When scholars scratch their heads and try to guess

The meaning of these words I write today,

The atoms that were me will still be true

To everything that once was part of you.

 

© Helen Lewis, 2004

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