A whisper of wind,
almost a memory,
ghosts across the desert floor.
Once there were men here,
the silence of the dead land remains.
Men came shouting and screaming,
a great battle in a great war,
then fire fell from above,
And those fires died down,
and a soft ash fell upon that life which remained,
the radiation took what life still clung.
Bones remained still,
and the dying land took them into itself,
bones sunk into the earth,
there was life here.
Just the memory of wind,